I Dare You To Lose Control
by Halia Stone
Summary: "There's something I need you to do for me." - The hooks are digging in too tight; the strings suffocating... powerless against the puppet master. [Warning: heavy elements of abuse/murder, gore and violence and graphic slash between two males - AU-ish setting for season 4 of the show]
1. Chapter 1

**So this isn't much at the moment, it's just the start of the story that'll set everything in motion. I'm still sort of playing around with the plotline and working out some kinks, but if you guys could review even this teeny prologue and let me know if you wanna read more of this story - crazy-ass story - and I'll see you with it's official first chapter next time. :)**

**And to anyone wondering, I'm using the same timeline as the show has.**

* * *

If Klaus could feel _anything_ at this present moment, it would be boredom. Complete and utter boredom. He had opened his eyes once again to pitch blackness, unable to even make out the lid of the coffin encasing him, and the chains around his body had long since became a heavy weight on him, numbing his senses further.

He could still hear, but there was nothing _to_ hear; only a deafening silence with the occasional squeal of a rat to keep him company. He had managed to block out the feeling of his veins rubbing like sandpaper, that being of some small comfort to him.

He had lost all sense of time, it was _agonising_. Months could have passed, even years, and he would have been none the wiser because he - a timeless monument - was sealed away from the outside world. Thankfully, as he had seen during one of the brief moments his coffin had been opened, Alaric had dessicated on the spot before he could so much as _dare_ plunge the white oak stake into his heart.

The last thing he had seen before the eldest Salvatore had slammed the coffin shut with a snarky, "Good riddance," was the light fading out of Alaric's eyes and the horror emerging in them as he realised what was happening to him. He had tuned out the disgustingly heart-wrenching conversation between Elena and Damon, however, or at least he had _tried_ to. Poor bloke just couldn't catch a break.

A loud crunching and creaking of wood echoed loudly throughout the spacious... _building_, he supposed. He strained his ears to the sound of coughing and faint footsteps that seemed to be above him.

"C'mon, it's right down here," a male voice said excitedly, his tone hushed like he was a little child giddy with excitment. For all Klaus knew, he probably was; just a stupid teenager trying to find some way to scare his girlfriend.

"Are you sure we should even be down here?" a female voice asked hesitantly, but footsteps squeaked under _her_ weight nonetheless. "The door was chained shut," she added and Klaus smiled - not anymore.

"Look, you chose _dare_, alright," the boy said with a slight tone of irritation. "What better dare than to visit a creepy, abandoned building in the middle of nowhere?" he asked rhetorically, recieving a snort from the girl he was with.

"If you think you can scare me, you've got another thing coming," she muttered under her breath and Klaus' smirk grew as the footsteps began getting closer to the room he was in.

This time wood creaked _much _closer to him, and Klaus realised with glee that the teenagers were in the same room as him. Willing his arms to move despite the dessication, he _very_ slowly, but surely, began to flex some feeling back into his fingers, gritting his teeth as he was very sharply reminded of his still beating heart pumping what may as well have been dust around his body.

"Woah," a boy marvelled as he pushed the door open further. "Creepy," he added with a shudder.

"What's with all the candles?" the girl asked, chuckling to herself.

"I dunno," the boy said, no doubt shrugging. "Looks like no-one's been in here for months," he added in surprise, obviously looking around some more, judging by the gasps that came out of his mouth, and this peaked Klaus' interest. Where _was_ he, exactly?

"Hey, what's _that?_" the girl asked in amazement, both human's footsteps coming closer and the sound of their heartbeats filling Klaus' ears.

"That's a sheet, dearest Molly," the boy said sarcastically, there being a _thump!_ as the girl - Molly - most likely hit him.

"I meant what's _under_ the sheet, dumbass," she snorted, the boy chuckling at her.

Klaus heard the scraping of fabric as it was pulled off the coffin's top. The teens fingers were on the top, running against it. There was a groan of disgust from the boy, and then he sniggered.

"Open it," he said, trying to goad her into doing so.

"What, no!" Molly shrieked, recoling in horror. "_You_ open it," she argued back childishly.

"Chicken," the boy sneered good-naturedly, there being another _thump!_ "There's probably nothing in there," he said, trying to reason with her.

The coffin was forced open, revealling his dessicated body and blinding him with a sudden influx of light, and the girl gave a shrill scream and dropped the torch she had been holding, while the boy all-but jumped a few feet into the air.

"Mol, calm down," he said gently, rubbing her arm comfortingly. "It's probably just a prop put here to scare us," he said, although his voice was shaking despite his reasoning. He then reached out to touch the edge of the coffin, but decided against it as Klaus' eyes followed his hands.

"The door was chained," Molly pointed out, shifting uncomfortably and remaining a safe distance from the coffin.

"By whoever probably put this there," the boy said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, to which Molly became apprehensive. "Lotta chains, though," he muttered to himself, inching his fingers closer to touch them...

With a sudden burst of strength, the chains snapped and slithered away from Klaus' body like dead snakes, his teeth managing to snatch hold of the teenagers wrist. As much as he struggled, Klaus wasn't letting go.

He bit down, a considerable chore when he couldn't summon his fangs, until he drew blood, feeling his skin gain some color as he _felt_ the teenagers blood being siphoned up from the holes his teeth had created and running down his throat. His heart pumped faster, seemingly grateful for the sudden rush of blood.

Klaus finally released the boy's arm, cracking his neck back into place with an audible crunch. He felt his capliaries enlarge and his fangs push down from his gums. Without hesitation, he leapt forwards with his newfound strength and sunk his fangs into the boy's neck, his screams of pain being the sweetest music Klaus had ever heard.

"Darren!" Molly screamed as Klaus drained him dry, discarding his carcass like a rag-doll. He grinned wolfishly and advanced on her, eyes burning amber.

"What are you?" she asked fearfully, her voice trembling as she became paralysed by her fear.

"That's not important right now," Klaus said dismissively, placing a hand on the girl's shoulders. He then looked into her eyes, locking their gazes together.

"Don't be afraid, you're alright," he said reassuringly and the girl's demeanour changed; she was much calmer and had stopped shaking, not even noticing her dead boyfriend on the floor.

"That's better," Klaus murmured to himself under his breath. "What date is it?" he asked the girl.

"October 11, 2012," she responded, looking at him with a bewildered expression.

Klaus' nostrils flared indignantly. "So I've been in here for almost four months," he growled to himself. "Fantastic," he muttered bitterly. However, he considered his luck. It could have been several _years_ before he was found by anyone, or if he ever would have been.

"What are you talking about?" she asked in confusion, a faint smile playing on her mouth as she laughed at him. Something Klaus did _not _appreciate.

"Just stay still," he advised her calmly, moving a hand up to stroke her on the cheek.

She barely had time to react before he once again sunk his teeth into human flesh and drained her of her blood. Her screams were defeaning and Klaus thought, with a smirk, that soon _many_ more would follow...

Klaus stood on top of a large hill, the sun setting behind him and leaving behind a multi-colored canvas of reds, yellows and vibrant pink. His focus remained on the town, the citizens below looking akin to ants that he could - and _would_ \- crush under his boots; Stefan Salvatore and all his friends being amongst them.

They would object, surely, and fight him to the death - that was to be expected - but he already had the pieces planned out... the most vital of which - the King in this metaphorical game of chess - none of their pathetic brains would comphrehend in their dizziest daydreams.

"Make no mistake, Stefan," Klaus spat, narrowing his eyes in memory of the vampire who had dessicated him all those months ago. "I will have my vengeance; starting with the rest of this miserable town," he swore, leaning back on his heels and smirking to himself.

There would be so much bloodshed that the town would be _bathed_ in blood, and his secret weapon would be none the wiser to his trickery either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoo, I finally got this bad boy updated! Sorry I took so long, exam season, then loss of inspiration and all that shiz, but I'm back and I hope you'll all enjoy the update, and continue to review. Thanks for all the positive feedback so far, keep 'em comin'!**

**Now, I think this is also one of the few fics I've written where Elena actually seems like a decent person. xD The beginning is sorta Delena implied, because Damon is still in love with her; for now, that is. But the story is solely a Klamon fic, so there won't be any brother floppin' for Elena, she'll still be Damon's friend though, that much I can stomach, hehe. I s'pose I can take a break from making her a bitch all the time, eh?**

**Enjoy the chapter, read, favourite, review, etc, and I will see you all with the next update, whenever that may be. :)**

* * *

Damon shoved harshly past Meredith, having lost all patience with the woman trying to hold him back from entering the morgue. 'I helped her, she needed my help' resonated eeriely inside his head; she truly had no idea what that meant for Elena; she would be destroyed by it.

He pushed open the doors to the morgue, finding Stefan sat somberly beside the autopsy tray Elena's sodden body was rested on, head dipped as if in mourning. At least she wasn't fully dead, that would kill the both of them, despite the fact Elena had made her choice.

"What happened?" Damon demanded, coming to stand beside Stefan.

"Matt's car submerged when Rebekah ran it off of Wickery Bridge," Stefan explained in a quiet voice, Damon instantly boiling over with rage at the mention of Rebekah's name. "Elena begged and begged me to save Matt-"

"You saved a _busboy_ over the 'epic love' of your life?" Damon interrupted, barking out a harsh laugh that echoed off the tin containers across from them.

Stefan winced from the sound, but steeled himself to carry on talking. "It was what she wanted, Damon."

"But now she's going to be a vampire!" Damon exploded suddenly, jostling Stefan from behind. "She never wanted _that_ either," he pointed out, casting a brief glance to Elena's body on the tray. If she had just kept driving to him, she and Matt wouldn't have even _been_ on the bridge.

To say he was bitter over the fact he'd been left to die in a storage locker, _alone_ with two corpses, was an understatment. Why did _Stefan_ get the goodbye from her, when he was already surrounded by friends and people that loved him, while he had no-one?

He sighed, able to keep his anger at bay for the sake of his brother; his eyes were glistening with unshed tears and he could barely look him in the eye. Damon supposed it was payback enough that he was going to have to live with what he had done for all eternity, deciding to let that torture him rather than himself. He laid a comforting hand on Stefan's shoulder, his brother leaning into the touch as the unshed tears finally spilled from his eyes.

Damon scowled briefly; all this respecting of Elena's choices had disastrous consequences, as he had once warned Stefan, and that he would be the one to keep him alive. It was bittersweet that he had been right all along; why could everyone but Elena see that? Why was he always the one cast aside in favour of his brother? And what in the name of everything holy did Elena _still_ see in his brother? _He _was the one who had been by her side throughout all the heartbreak that he had caused her. Why would she choose to go back to that? Things were never going to be the same between them again, especially now that Elena was on the darker path that she never wanted to be on, all because of Stefan, the 'love of her life'.

Elena suddenly lurched up; gasping to fill her lungs with air. She looked around in confusion, before her eyes - glassed over and both pupils uneven - came to settle on Damon and Stefan.

Stefan reached out a hand to her, taking gentle hold of her arm. "Elena...?" he whispered gently, rousing her quickly before she threw herself into a spiral of panic and hysteria.

"Damon? Stefan?" she breathed in confusion as she registered the two of them beside her. "What... W-What's going on?" she asked, worriedly looking between Stefan's face that was dirtied with drying tear streaks, and Damon's already-softening glare that had been directed at his brother.

"You take her out of here, I'll deal with it," Damon said hurriedly, patting Stefan on the shoulder and heading towards the doors.

It didn't help that the knife was driven in deeper when he saw Stefan wrapping Elena in an embrace before sweeping her into his arms, like a _White Knight_. He pushed open the doors with a bitter scowl and didn't look back, shoving past many medial personnel before he found Meredith at the reception desk.

She handed the clipboard to the receptionist and hurried over to him, her voice dropping to a whisper: "How is she?" she asked in concern.

"Awake, confused," Damon responded with a sigh, clenching his fist by his side; this wouldn't even be happening if she had just kept driving to him or Stefan hadn't listened for once and _saved her_. "She doesn't know she's in transition from the looks of things," he added, Meredith looking at him pityingly.

"Stefan's getting her out of here so people don't ask too many questions," he went on with a sigh, "Can you handle the rest?" he asked, looking at her; expecting an answer.

Meredith nodded and Damon turned to leave, feeling the Doctor catch his sleeve gently. He turned to see her eyes full of guilt.

"I'm sorry, Damon," she apologised with sincerity.

Damon gave her a reassuring smile. "_You_ saved her, Stefan didn't," he said simply, leaving her with a pat on the shoulder, and finally leaving the hospital.

When he finally got to the Gilbert household, he rushed straight up to Elena's room, only to find all the curtains drawn and the scene in front of him a less morbid mirroring of back at the hospital; Elena was out of her sodden clothes and was tucked away under her bedsheets, looking peaceful.

Damon crossed over to the other side of the room, perching himself by the windowsill. "Surely she shouldn't be passing out this much?" he asked in confusion, remembering that when he and Stefan had turned, passing out hadn't exactly been on the agenda as every sense in their body had been operating at superspeed and hadn't allowed them a moment of peace.

"Might be the shock of things," Stefan guessed, although he seemed just as confused as Damon did. "Don't forget, she drowned - probably feels like it's happening over and over again," he said with a grimace.

"And who's fault is that, brother?" Damon retorted with a snarky wiggle of his eyebrows, the corners of his lips twitching at Stefan's expression.

"Damon, please, not now," he pleaded, looking at him in earnest.

"Later..." Damon promised with a sinister smirk. If Elena being a vampire wasn't torture enough for him, he was going to happily provide it for as long as he could before he inevitably left Mystic Falls, as was the agreement between the two of them, although now his staying away seemed permanent, since Elena would have eternal life. He expected that deep down, Stefan was revelling in that small fact.

Anything Stefan would have said in response to him was cut short by Elena rousing and gasping for air, head darting round in confusion. She focused on Stefan at the foot of her bed, brows wrinkling in a mix of shock and bewilderment.

"Stefan?"

"Hey, I'm right here," Stefan said softly, "You've been in and out for a while," he added worriedly, Damon nodding in agreement, although she wasn't looking at him; solely focused on Stefan, as usual.

"Wh-what happened?" she asked, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she started to regain her senses.

"You were in an accident," Stefan explained slowly, reaching out and taking hold of her hand to console her.

"Oh my God," Elena gasped, eyes widening in shock as it was no doubt coming back to her. She then started forwards frantically: "Matt is he...?"

"Alive?" Damon finished for her with a sardonic chuckle - yes the busboy was alive for now, until he got his hands around his worthless neck - both Stefan and Elena turning to look at him. "Ask Stefan, the hero," he added with a snide smile, Stefan looking back at Elena.

"He's fine," Stefan reassured her, a light, relieved smile coming across her face.

"Thank you. I thought that I–" She broke herself off and shook her head, clearly still fuzzy on things. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and looked at Stefan tiredly. "How did you...?"

"Save you?" Damon interrupted again, casting Elena a seething glare over Stefan's shoulder, the latter reacting in confusion. "He didn't," he said with a sneer, some small part of him delighting in the look of horror washing over her face.

"When Jeremy brought you to the hospital before all this happened, your injuries were worse than anyone knew," Stefan explained, Elena slowly realising what that meant, lightly shaking her head. "Meredith Fell made a choice, she used Damon's blood to heal you," he went on, looking back to Damon to keep going.

"And when Rebekah ran Matt's truck off the road, you had vampire blood in your system, Elena," Damon finished, turning his attention to the scenery outside the window as Elena started to panic, so he wouldn't be tempted to roll his eyes at her.

"Oh my God," Elena gasped, Damon hearing her swallow hard as it finally dawned on her; he wanted _so_ badly to rub in her face that she wouldn't even be in transition if she hadn't been on that damn bridge back to his brother in the first place. "Does - does that mean that I – am I dead?" she asked, her voice cracking and her eyes no doubt brimming with tears.

Stefan was silent in response to her question and Damon was finding a jogger man on the opposite street to be much more interesting than what was going on.

"No, no, no, no! That wasn't supposed to happen!" she cried, her voice cracking once more. Damon stared ahead icily; it wouldn't have, if it wasn't for Stefan putting 'respecting her choices' over her _life_. The world had other busboys, what was so special about this one?

"Maybe it doesn't have to," Stefan said quickly, pityingly, while Elena sobbed quietly, making Damon roll his eyes. "I talked to Bonnie, she says she's stronger than ever, there might be something that she can do to help you," he added in warm reassurance.

Damon spun around to look at the both of them so fast his neck cracked; was his brother truly delusional? "No, the only thing that's going to help is for you to feed and complete the transition," he said knowingly, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

"We have all day before she has to feed, Damon," Stefan pointed out, looking at him in determination. "That's a day to exhaust every possible way out of this," he stated.

"There is no way out of it," Damon argued back bluntly, not exactly sorry to be bursting the metaphorical bubble. "We all know the drill; you feed or you die. There is no door number three," he added harshly, but it was the only way the two of them would see sense.

"I was ready to die," Elena admitted, on the verge of tears again, nodding her head in Stefan's direction as he dipped his head in resignation. "I was supposed to die. I don't – I don't want to be – I can't be a vampire!" she cried desperately, her hair whipping around her as she shook her head in denial.

"If there's something that Bonnie can do we have to try," she went on, her voice much softer, pleading as she looked at Stefan and no doubt pulling on his heart strings

"We will. We'll try everything," Stefan promising, rubbing a thumb reassuringly over the top of her hand.

Damon rolled his eyes, unable to keep the scoff out of his voice. "Your choice, Elena. As always," he said sarcastically, getting up and leaving the room with a backward stare at the two of them; Stefan looking at him in annoyance and Elena just looking confused with tears in her eyes.

He sighed as he entered the kitchen, throwing a cabinet open and grabbing a bottle of bourbon, most likely one of Alaric's. He poured himself a glass, hearing Stefan entering the kitchen. He turned around, raising his eyebrows at his saddened expression.

"Way to get her hopes up for something that's never happened in the history of vampirism," he said mockingly, not caring whether Elena could hear them or not, and punching Stefan lightly on the arm.

"You know what, you weren't there the day Elena looked me in the eye and told me she absolutely never wanted this," Stefan retorted, as if that made the whole matter okay, but it didn't. If Stefan knew how badly she didn't want to be a vampire, why would he not have disrespected her choice just _once_ and saved _her?!_

Damon downed the whole glass in a single gulp to stop himself from crushing it in his fist. "None of us ever wanted this either, but we dealt with it as it came along, now she has to do the same," he said simply, shrugging.

"And if you're so guilt-ridden over it, then you shouldn't have saved Matt over her and let her die," he said again, his voice raising with each word. "Or at least unclipped her seatbelt," he added as an after thought.

"I never meant for her to die," Stefan argued back, Damon smiling wryly at him in response. "She asked me to help Matt first and I did," he said, strangely, there not being a hint of guilt about the matter. If Damon was any less mature, he would've made the sound of a whip cracking without hesitation.

"And now the world has one more quarterback," Damon noted, feigning being impressed and chuckling sardonically to himself. "Bravo, brother," he added in snide congratulations, pouring himself another drink.

"I made a choice that I will regret for the rest of my life," Stefan admitted with a sigh, folding his arms. "Now let me try to fix it," he added, looking at Damon imploringly, who just raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," he scowled, gulping down his second drink as Stefan left the kitchen and rushed back up the stairs to Elena.

_This is all Stefan's fault..._ Damon thought to himself, obliterating the glass to shreds in his bare hand, impulsively picking up the alchohol bottle and sending it crashing through the window with an impressive throw. He took a breath and leaned on the counter to calm himself down.

Elena hadn't even chose him, so he didn't know why he was even bothering to stick around at this point, or getting so worked up over what his own idiot brother had done. But he knew one thing; he was gone as soon as Elena completed the transition, there was no way he was sticking around to watch Stefan no doubt take Elena down the same path he was on - the moral path of feeding on the woodland population and then having Ripperdom just around the corner if he so much as made a wrong move - and forced to be a glass ornament, having no choice but to sit there and watch their love blossom for all eternity. Just once, he wished he could be someone's first choice, but he supposed that was what he got for going after the Doppleganger of his former lover, who had also chosen Stefan over him.

Damon was broken out of his morose thoughts at the sound of the front door being unlocked, unfamilar voices registering in his ears. Defensively, his vampire visage came forth and he sped towards a pillar, hiding behind it as the door was finally opened.

It was Liz' deputies, being lead by a man who Damon didn't recognise. The sight puzzled him; why were _Liz's_ deputies here, holding vervain tranquillisers and no doubt had wooden bullets in their guns? Damon sighed; it was the aftermath of what Alaric had said to the Founders Council, it had to be.

"Elena?" the mysterious man called, this confusing Damon further. He watched cautiously as the man and the deputies walked further into the hallway, making sure they couldn't see him.

"That's Pastor Young," Damon heard Elena say in recognition from upstairs, Stefan no doubt furrowing his eyebrows. "What's he doing here?" she asked in confusion, Damon hearing the bed creak as she moved to get out of it.

"Stay here, I'll see him," Stefan said gently, most likely easing Elena back into the bed.

"Through here, gentleman," the man, Pastor Young, said, and began leading the deputies into the living room. Damon silently crept out from his hiding place, the deputies and the Pastor not yet seeing him.

"Don't you know it's rude to enter a house uninvited?" he purred silkily, the deputies spinning around in shock, then pulling their guns on him once they caught sight of his vampire visage. Damon just smirked.

"What the Hell's going on?" Stefan demanded in surprise as he rushed down the stairs, Damon grinning at him from where he was on the top of the stairs.

"We're ridding the town of the plague that's befallen it," the Pastor explained simply, pulling a wooden stake out of his coat pocket. "And you and your brother are the first to go," he added, pointing the stake in Damon's direction.

A dark chuckle slipped out of Damon's mouth and his fangs glinted. "Your funeral," he said simply, catching Stefan's eye, who nodded firmly.

Turning his attention back to the deputies and Pastor Young, Damon rushed at one that had been loading his gun, smacking the weapon out of his hand and pulling him in front of him as a human shield all in one movement; the bullets from another deputies gun embedded into his comrade's body and Damon sneered at him, hissing and tearing his fangs into the dead deputy in his arms.

He bit down harder at the groans of disgust and shock he was hearing, revelling in the taste of the fresh blood which he hadn't had in far too long. He reared up with a deadly roar at the sound of a gun cocking, shoving the body into the deputies, rushing forwards as Stefan leapt from the staircase and into the fight; Damon turned in time to see the Pastor had been inches from him, a vervain needle now on the floor.

Stefan pinned the Pastor to the opposite wall in a tight choke hold, grabbing hold of his wrist and snapping it in half. The Pastor yelled out in pain and Damon chuckled; people should know better than to mess with vampires.

But his victorious stance was short-lived; a bullet embedded itself into his arm with a fiery bite, Damon growling out in pain and placing a hand over the wound. He looked at the adversaries - three were advancing on him, and only one along with the broken-handed Pastor were concerned with his brother.

Taking a breath, Damon sped out the door in a blur, hoping they would follow him. He leapt up into a tree, cursing under his breath as he only saw one deputy run out after him, hearing Stefan's groans of pain as the other deputies attacked him. He momentarily glanced to Elena's window; there was no way she'd still be upstairs with what was going on.

"You can't run, vampire!" the deputy called out, brandishing his gun wildly and no doubt giving the nosy neighbours a fright when they couldn't help look over their fences or out their windows.

"No, but I can hide," Damon chuckled, loud enough for the deputy to hear him.

He looked up in surpise, gun momentarily dropped to his side, eyes landing on Damon up in the tree. He flashed him a devious smile, jumping down from the branch and crunching his neck between his feet as he landed back on the ground. He picked up the deputy's gun, unloading the bullets and breaking the clip off, dropping it on the ground.

Dusting his hands together, Damon picked the body up by its ankles and tossed it behind a bush, jumping behind it reflexively as the Gilbert's front door opened; Stefan was shoved out, his movements slow and sluggish - probably the vervain dart meant for Damon earlier - with guns pointed at his back, forcing him down the path towards the van parked outside, while the Pastor had a reassuring arm around an extremely confused and distressed Elena.

"Damn..." Damon muttered under his breath, leaping over the bush and speeding back inside the house and slamming the door before the Pastor and his remaining deputies could spot him.

He watched from the window as the Pastor got into the front seat of the the van, helping Elena into the passenger side, and Stefan was harshly shoved into the back. The van roared off down the street, and Damon swiped the phone off of the cabinet, dialling the hospital.

The phone was picked up a few rings in. "Dr. Fell's office," Meredith answered and Damon smiled pleasantly; just who he needed.

"Very formal," he teased her in response, picturing the Doctor's cheeks flushing red.

"Damon?" Meredith asked in surprise.

"Did you know there's a Pastor Young here?" he asked hurriedly, ignoring her previous remark. "He's just taken Stefan and Elena to God knows where, with Liz' deputies that had wooden bullets in their guns," he explained, remembering he had one lodged in his arm and set about removing it, while still keeping hold of the phone.

"Yeah, he barged in and confiscated my leftover supply of vampire blood that Alaric didn't find and revoked my medical license,"

Damon sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Get over here and bring Liz with you," he ordered, "This is bigger than I thought," he added with a disheartening mutter. Wherever the Hell the Pastor was taking Stefan and Elena, he meant to kill them and Damon would be damned if he let his brother get killed by some wannabe bigshot Pastor strolling through town.

* * *

Damon paced in agitation; where the Hell was everyone? Caroline wasn't answering her phone, Jeremy and Bonnie's calls kept going to voicemail, and Tyler's said his number had been disconnected. The only other person left to call was Rebekah, since the Original dared to remain in town after what she'd done, but it was running Matt's truck off the road put her so far down the list, she wasn't even on it. It seemed like an eternity passed when the door _finally _opened, revealling Meredith and Liz.

"You two took your time," Damon noted, unimpressed as they walked into the living room. "This Pastor guy means business, so _please_ tell me that you have something," he added pleadingly, looking from Meredith to Liz.

"I wish I could," Liz said with a sigh, Damon frowning at her. "The Council locked me and Carol out of our offices. Files, computers, everything," she added, sitting down on the sofa in dismay.

"So, the Mayor and the Sheriff never contemplated a backup plan, Liz?" Damon asked incredulously, hands flying up in the air as he glared at her.

"Damon, relax," Meredith said soothingly, the latter easing up slightly. "When Caroline called to say she got away" - _So that's where they've been, _Damon wondered to himself - "did she know where they were planning to take her?" she asked.

"No," Liz said, worriedly rubbing her hands over her face. "Just that she was in some van in the middle of nowhere and she managed to escape," she explained, although that wasn't helpful. It made Damon wonder; how many other vampires had the Pastor captured?

"Perfect. We've narrowed it down to nowhere," Damon said with a faux pleasant smile on his face, the expression dropping instantly when the front door opened and he caught sight of the person walking in.

Matt-motherfucking-Donovan, who had the decency to stroll in like nothing had actually happened and he was just paying a visit to his friend who was in _transition_ because of him. "Hey, is Elena here?" he asked, eyeing Liz and Meredith with confusion.

He didn't have the time to look at Damon, as he had rushed forwards and pinned him against the wall; choking him hard and feeling extremely tempted to squeeze the life out of him. What was so special about this kid that Stefan actually saved _him_ over Elena?

"In what world are _you_ the one that gets to live?!" he demanded, harshly squeezing and enjoying the struggles of both Matt and Meredith to pull him off him. Spitefully, he increased pressure until he saw Matt's eyes rolling to the top of his head.

"Damon, stop! It wasn't his fault!" Meredith cried.

"Let him go, Damon! Now!" Liz demanded, Damon chuckling.

There was a moment of silence in the living room, all three humans hoping Damon would do the opposite of what he intended to do. Eventually, Damon released Matt, the human eagerly coughing air back into his lungs. Damon sneered and stepped away from him.

"Okay," Liz said in surprise, looking bewildered that Damon had actually listened to her. "With your vervain and Alaric's weapons; they could be anywhere," she went on, trying to difuse the tension between him and Matt.

"Come on, guys, think. It takes a lot to hold a vampire," Damon said knowingly, remembering when Stefan had held him in the cellar of the boarding house; he could have easily moved from the vervain, but he still couldn't have smashed open the door, due to the steel in it. "Reinforced steel, iron doors..." he listed, counting them on his fingers and peaking the two women's interests.

"The Pastor has a cattle ranch," Matt chimed in, Damon, Liz and Meredith turning to look at him. "Those pens could easily be modified," he added.

Liz nodded in agreement. "It's remote, it's secluded," she added, furthering Matt's point.

Damon just hoped they knew what they were talking about and he would actually find them when he got there. "Well, guess what? Looks like you get a chance to prove how sorry you really are," he said in Matt's direction, "Let's go," he said, harshly shoving Matt towards the door.

That was, if Damon didn't kill him on the way there.

They pulled up to the old cattle ranch about an hour later, Damon embarassingly needing to ask Matt for directions. As he got out of the car, he could smell vervain from far off and hear the Pastor's voice from inside the house, talking to someone. Only he couldn't _see_ where Stefan and Elena, and god-only-knows who else were being kept.

"So, what, we just storm the place with zero weapons?" Matt asked incredulously, eyeing the house in front of them.

"Nah, we don't need weapons," Damon said off-handedly, the busboy clearing forgetting vampires were weapons anyway. "Just bait," he added with a grin, licking his lips as his vampire visage slithered forwards.

Matt's eyes widened; Damon ignored him and sunk his fangs into his neck, tearing away almost instantly and ripping the flesh, smearing the blood over his mouth. Matt fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Damon turned his attention back to the house.

"Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?" he called eeriely, walking forwards. "Big, bad vampire out here," he added with a chuckle, licking at the blood around his mouth.

The door opened gingerly and Pastor Young's head poked around it, the latter walking out instantly - but not far enough for Damon to be able to grab him - and seeing Matt on the ground, holding a hand over his bleeding neck.

"Let him go," the Pastor demanded tentatively, Damon raising an eyebrow. "The boy's innocent," he added, Damon finding it very hard to believe that one of the reasons the girl he loved was now forced to become something she hated, was anything _but_.

"Well, that's the point," Damon said bluntly, the Pastor swallowing and pushing his nerves down. "Give me Stefan and Elena, he's all yours," he bargained.

Leaning down, Damon grasped Matt's shirt with one hand, pulling him up to his feet with little support: "Come on, Pastor. You know I'll kill him," he said, tightening his grip on Matt's shirt. "I _want_ to kill him," he added deviously, his fangs lengthening.

"Go away!" the Pastor yelled, Damon scowling in his direction. "You are not invited in and I'm not coming out!" he declared, slamming the door and retreating back inside.

Damon jolted suddenly, dropping Matt to the floor again. The sound of a gunshot registered in his mind and searing pain burned through his chest powerful enough to send him to the ground and into unconciousness.

He was unsure of how much time had passed, but Damon was awoken by someone nudging his body with their boot like he was a sack of potatoes. He remained still, opening one eye a slit; two deputies, both with buckshot rifles.

Damon shot up to his feet, snatching the guns out of the deputies' hands so fast that one didn't notice until it was buried deep in his chest. He took care of the other, snapping his neck with ease. He gritted his teeth and dipped his fingers into his wound, gently searching out the bullet; he pulled it out with a wince and dropped it.

He turned his attention to Matt, crawling pathetically along the floor, one hand over his bleeding neck. Damon kicked him hard, throwing him onto his back.

"Go ahead and kill me," Matt whispered, his voice cracking as he dared look Damon in the eye. "You can't possibly hate me more than I hate myself," he said with certainty.

"Oh, yes I can..." Damon trailed off ominously, determined to show Matt exactly how much more he _despised_ him.

He pressed his foot down _hard_ on Matt's throat, staring down at him icily, growling: "It should've been _you_," while Matt choked pitifully underneath him.

Suddenly, Damon felt himself knocked off Matt with a sledgehammer of a whack that smashed his back against a tree, the bark digging in painfully. He hissed defensively as a hand tightened around his throat, being met with a dark chuckle that was eeriely familar.

"Put them away, Damon," the soft voice of Klaus ordered lightly, Damon refusing to believe it was actually him. "You couldn't take me on even in your dizziest daydreams," he added with a chuckle, making Damon shudder.

He blinked to clear his vision, Klaus' face coming into view in front of him. There was a devillish smirk on his face, and more to the point, he looked... _alive_, for all intents and purposes.

"What the Hell are you doing here?!" Damon demanded, struggling to free himself from Klaus' grip, but the hybrid wasn't fazed in the slightest; probably felt like a three-year old was hitting him.

Klaus' eyes wandered up and down Damon's body, lingering on his mouth before he actually gave a response: "Making my move," he said cryptically, confusing Damon further.

But before he could say or do anything, the elder Salvatore was met with a wry smile, and then pitch blackness, the sound of his neck snapping echoing in his ears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bloody Hell, where's the time gone, eh? I am so sorry this update took so long, but I've had a lot going on - college, exams and stuff like that. But hopefully the next update shouldn't take me as long (a freaking YEAR, fuck me...). I'm really gonna enjoy taking this story in the direction I've planned, and I hope you'll all stay tuned for that.**

**As always, read, review, enjoy, and I'll see you next time. (Which **_**fingers and everything else crossed**_**, shouldn't be in another year :P)**

* * *

Damon's mind was spinning as a sharp yell brought him prematurely back into consciousness, pain flaring up from his arms, his body feeling hot and light, like he was floating. He blinked to clear his vision, but was rewarded with staring into a dark room, a few cracks of sunlight filtering in from the cracks in the roof.

He looked upwards, his head feeling extremely heavy, seeing chains jutting out from a hook in the ceiling, trailing down and stopping into his wrists and arms, the thick, sharp hooks wiggling under his skin and slicing into his veins. Hot blood oozed from the wounds with every move he made, making Damon grimace in pain as he dangled from them like some sort of human puppet.

Whoever put him here, clearly wasn't messing around. Dimly, he remembered Klaus snapping his neck, and his head darted around to look for him. He was completely alone in the darkness, and Damon wasn't sure if he was relieved about that or not.

Steeling himself, he gripped the chains as best as he could between his fists and took a deep breath. He relaxed and let all his strength hang off of the chains, the hooks sliding upwards and cutting into him even more, dripping blood onto his face and into his hair. He breathed out and did it again, yelling in a mixture of pain and relief as the chains digging into his palms were ripped free.

Sweat was beading down his forehead and Damon could feel the blood oozing down on him and soaking into his clothes. With a final tug, the chains tore through the skin, sending Damon falling through the air and onto the floor – solid marble floor – below him. He laid there, unmoving and looked down at his wrists, the skin beginning to sew itself together.

Pushing himself to his feet, Damon cracked his neck from either side, nursing the cramp there. Furrowing his brows in confusion at a boarded up window, he walked over to it, ripping into the wood to quite literally shed some light on the situation.

The wooden slate he had been in the process of ripping off hung there on the other side of the nail as Damon hissed in pain, the flesh of his hand burning in the sun's rays. His eyes narrowing, he realized his ring was missing.

And he wasn't alone.

"You looking for this?" a female voice asked from behind him, making Damon whirl around and snarl at her, his vampire visage popping through in defense. She was twirling her ring around his index finger, the band too big to fit her, teasing him.

The woman ignored him, moving over to the window and taking off the other boards off of it. As a bright shaft of light filled the room, Damon squinted briefly and moved into the shadows. He recognized the room instantly – he was in Klaus' mansion. It was ingenious in its stupidity; no-one would think to look for him here, since according to them, Klaus was still desiccating in a coffin.

The woman then turned around and chuckled at him, able to see more of him in the sunlight. "That sure was nasty, huh?" she smirked, glancing back at the chains that were still hanging from the ceiling and dripping with Damon's blood.

"Oh, my apologies," she said after a sudden start, walking over to him, "I'm Kara," she introduced herself, extending a hand.

Damon's lips curved into a snarl. "Never cared much about my victim's names," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Before the woman could register what he said, he snarled and lunged forwards, sinking his fangs into her warm flesh, drinking as much as he was able. His hands fumbled for hers – the sickening snap of her fingers reaching his ears – in an effort to snatch back his ring.

Eventually, he triumphantly snapped it up, sliding it on his finger whilst continuing to crush the woman's neck between his mouth, her blood spilling around his mouth and pooling between the two of them.

Without warning, Damon tore away from Kara's neck, feeling a sharp, shooting pain at his throat. His blood was boiling and his insides felt like they were on fire. He lurched forwards, involuntarily spitting out Kara's blood in a red tidal wave, glaring up at her with the darkest expression he could muster.

In retaliation, he felt his brain being stabbed with a thousand tiny needles. He struggled to remain on his feet – like _Hell_ he was going to bow to this bitch – his teeth grinding together as he tried to hold in his yells of pain.

"Stop, before you kill him," a voice called over, Damon gasping in relief as the pressure on his brain was relieved. Kara herself relaxed as well, placing a hand over her still-bleeding neck.

He turned to the source of the voice, his eyes narrowing as Klaus nonchalantly strolled over to the two of him, his vampire visage coming out on instinct. Klaus raised an eyebrow at him as Damon let his lips part slightly, exposing the tips of his fangs.

"Apologies for the hostile reception, Damon," Klaus apologized, although didn't sound sorry at all, "But now we can begin," he said, flashing him a quick smile that was off his face as quickly as it had come.

"Begin _what?_" Damon asked, raising his eyebrow.

"In time," Klaus deflected, chuckling as Damon's brashness.

_Fuck this_, he snarled mentally. He charged at Klaus, baring his fangs, but before he could get to the hybrid and attempt to smash his face to pieces, he felt that same piercing sensation in his brain, grimacing as Klaus just smiled down at him.

He then turned to Kara, who had her hand outstretched in warning. "No, leave him." The words were off-handed, although his cold, harsh tone made it an order.

Reluctantly, Kara released Damon from the spell – he rubbed his temples to quell the pounding there – looking between both him and Klaus nervously. The elder Salvatore kept his distance from the two of them, eyeing Klaus warily.

He folded his arms and stared at the hybrid begrudgingly. "How did you even get out of that coffin?" he asked in confusion. As great as Klaus was – and there was no denying that – there was no way he could have fought against total desiccation.

"Teenage curiosity, would you believe it?" Klaus said with a chuckle, seeming in disbelief about it himself, "They just wondered right into where you and Stefan had imprisoned me, and freed me without a second thought," he added, almost gloating to him about how their plan had failed. Yet another reason for Damon to hate teenagers.

"Still don't understand what I've got to do with this," Damon said in frustration. Why couldn't Klaus just be a stereotypical villain and monologue everything to him?

"You're the most essential part of my plan," Klaus responded cryptically.

Damon was overcome with an incredulous snort of laughter, "There's no way in Hell I'd ever help you," he hissed coldly.

All traces of emotion left Klaus' face. "You don't have a choice," he stated plainly, giving him a wry smile.

Damon huffed out a breath. _We'll see about that_...

Briefly, his eyes flickered between Klaus and Kara. Kara he could take, providing she didn't see him coming, but Klaus... there was no way. But then again, Damon really didn't fancy his brain bursting or vomiting up acid if Kara decided to play nasty. Bypassing the two of them, he rushed off in a blur of air, disappearing up the staircase.

He was greeted with a long hallway, and he heard Klaus' footsteps behind him, stopping at the foot of the stairs. Thankfully, he couldn't see him. Damon moved further down the hallway, his hand reaching for a door knob just in case.

"Aren't we both a little too old for Hide and Seek, Damon?" Klaus called to him in amusement.

Damon remained quiet, pulling the door open and disappearing into the room as Klaus started walking up the stairs. He found himself in an untouched spare room, and thought about hiding in one of the wardrobes – yes, a one-hundred and seventy year old vampire was contemplating hiding in a piece of furniture – but he knew he couldn't stay in one place too long, as Klaus was no doubt following his scent.

"Alright, I'll entertain you for a while," Klaus told him, Damon being thankful that his voice sounded pretty far off, "But you should know you can't escape, Damon – can't escape me," he added in a menacing tone, making Damon swallow nervously.

"Can't hide, either," he sang as an afterthought, a door opening off in the distance.

Taking a second to collect himself, Damon crossed through to an adjoining room, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a picture frame. He walked over to the door, opening it and peeking out a little. He couldn't see Klaus anywhere, couldn't _hear_ him either.

He slammed the door loudly, speeding over to the picture frame and smashing it to pieces over the loud, echoing noise. He picked up a piece of the frame, knowing he didn't have much time as Klaus was most likely heading his way, and snapped off the end, giving it a deadly-looking point. He slid it into the waistband of his jeans, covering the exposed shaft with his shirt.

"Now if that was just made of white oak," he quipped to himself in a whisper.

He stilled instantly, frozen to the spot, as he heard Klaus' footsteps outside the door. He kept his eyes trained on the handle; the second it even so much as _twitched_, he was out of there.

"You can always come out, Damon," Klaus offered, his voice echoing from _right behind_ the door, "I'll make it easier on you," he added, Damon managing to tell he was thinking off the top of his head.

Damon breathed a silent sigh of relief as Klaus' footsteps moved off, passing him completely. He opened the door and walked out into the hallway – Klaus having already thrown open the door to another room – looking down at the foyer, spotting Kara down below. She seemed completely oblivious to him.

"Alright, I'll start counting," Klaus called to him, Damon's eyes widening as his head darted towards the sound of his voice, "But you're not going to like it when I find you," he warned him.

"And I always will," he added with a calm serenity that made Damon's gut churn.

A door creaked open fairly close to him and Klaus started counting, Damon speeding off before the words even reached his ears. He was on the west side of the balcony's hallway, as far away from Klaus as he could get, but it wouldn't stop him if he wanted to find him.

He opened the door to another room and found himself in what looked like Klaus' art studio. He looked around for somewhere to hide, but there wasn't anything, and he wasn't about to revert back to a five-year old and hide behind a canvas with the mentality that if he shut his eyes and couldn't see Klaus, Klaus wouldn't be able to see him.

Slowly, he crossed the room and stepped back out into the hallway. Still daunted with the sound of Klaus' counting, that was getting closer again, he was about to run into another room, but he saw the hybrid walking towards him.

He stepped backwards, hiding behind the doorframe to the art studio room. Klaus stepped into the room, Damon counting solely on the shadows to shield him from Klaus' gaze as he slipped out of the room without his knowledge.

"Six, seven, eight..." Klaus called to him as he began searching the art room, but Damon knew it was pointless and probably to try and throw him off. "Nine, ten."

Damon quickly shut the door to the room he found himself in.

"Ready or not, here I come," he called in a devilish tone.

Damon spun around and looked for a place to hide. There was a large antique cupboard, but he didn't fancy staying in there, but there wasn't anything else either. He needed to move before Klaus found him. He eyed a large vase that was near him, and picked it up. He opened the door and tossed it out into the hallway, hearing a door fly open as Klaus heard it.

He backed off into an adjoining bedroom, feeling the stake pressing against his stomach as he got further in there. He pulled it out, holding it in front of him.

"You are making this too easy for me, Damon," Klaus said from behind him, chuckling.

Damon instantly whirled around before Klaus could even attempt to lay a hand on him, and sunk the stake into his chest. Klaus yelled out and Damon managed to force him to his knees, snapping the stake off to where it embedded in his body to give him more time. He then rushed out of the room, struggling to catch his breath.

He rounded back towards the foyer, and saw the front door in front of him. He hurried down the stairs and made to open the door, but Damon's hand wouldn't touch it, like an invisible barrier was stopping him. He tried again and again, groaning in frustration as his efforts were fruitless. Of _course_ Klaus would be covering all his bases.

He kicked the door in annoyance, his foot also not being able to make contact with it, and heard Kara laughing from behind him. He turned to her with a venomous snarl, flashing her fangs at her.

She remained still, a smug and condescending look on her face that he would have no qualms about wiping off. "Have I mentioned I _really_ hate witches?"

Kara raised her hand, but Damon was ready this time. He rushed over and snapped her arm in between his own, her screams of pain leaving her vulnerable. He ripped into her neck, leaving her no room to try and cast a spell to pull him off, his fangs sinking deeper and deeper as she struggled. He pulled back with a vicious smile, exposing bloody teeth, and tossed the Witch through the air.

She landed heavily onto the floor, a sickening _crack!_ echoing through the room. Damon smirked – She was unmoving and Damon couldn't sense a heartbeat. Now for that goddamned door problem–

There was a sudden crushing pain around his throat, and Damon felt himself being pulled up against Klaus' chest, the hybrid growling in his ear. Damon gritted his teeth and reared his head back, Klaus' grip on him loosening as his nose broke. He yelled out as he felt Klaus punch a hand into his stomach, pushing him down onto the floor.

Damon glared up at him spitefully, blood trickling out of the side of his mouth: "I don't know what you're gonna do now," he gasped in between breaths, gritting his teeth as he felt his lung regenerating itself from the inside, "I've just killed your witch," he gloated smugly.

Klaus smiled. "One of them," he stated, and memories of the sacrifice instantly rushed back to Damon – why didn't he think of that?! "Like I told you before, Damon, I always have a back-up," he added, giving him a sympathetic look.

Something was crushed onto the back of his head and Damon's head smashed into the floor, his skull cracking from the force of the hit. He fought to stay conscious as he felt his blood dripping into his brain.

Boots walked in front of his rapidly blurring vision and came to stand in front of Klaus, "You couldn't have picked a weaker vampire?" she asked in annoyance, folding her arms.

"I could have, Mindy," Klaus said with a pinched expression, no doubt finding his witch's attitude rude, "But she's an insufferable teenager I do not need yammering in my ear about morality for the next few hours," he added snidely, Damon not sure whether he was referring to Elena or Caroline.

"Besides, I like the irony in using Damon," he said in a strangely fond voice.

"Very poetic," Mindy retorted, Damon guessing from her tone she was rolling her eyes, "But, he managed to kill Kara, who's to say he won't do the same to me?" she asked, and Damon smirked from where he was laying.

Klaus was done messing around; he stepped into Mindy's personal space, his expression becoming hard and cold. "Well I suggest you get on with the spell," he advised her with a shrug of his shoulders, "Before he gets any funny ideas," he added, walking towards Damon, who was too weak to move.

"Or me," he said nonchalantly, reaching down to hoist Damon into his arms. He felt his head loll against Klaus' arms and he was met with darkness.

_Again_.

* * *

Unsure of how much time had passed, Damon opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling, his arms too heavy to move and a dull, monotonous dripping sounded from below him. He soon realized the source of his arms' heaviness – iron nails had been whacked into his wrists to secure him to the table he was laying on and to stop him from healing, and the dripping sound was his own blood.

He groaned as the pain finally caught up with him, sensing someone's eyes on him. _Klaus._

"You Mikaelsons really have a thing for tying me up, don't you?" he asked sarcastically, turning to see Klaus lounging against an opposite wall. He moved and came to tower over him, looking down at him with an evil smile.

"And since I'm not going anywhere, mind telling me what you want with me now?" he asked, staring up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Not yet," Klaus said with a shake of his head, making Damon roll his eyes, "Although, I am intrigued to know how you're fighting Mindy's spell," he wondered, looking down at him intently.

Damon's brows furrowed in confusion. "What spell?"

"Funny, Damon," Klaus said dryly, giving him a wry smile.

"No, I'm serious," Damon said imploringly, "I don't even know what you're up to, so how would I know if she's casting a spell on me?" he added. He couldn't feel any aches or pains – save the nails in his wrists twisting deeper into his bones each time he moved – or a burning sensation that may have come with a witch casting a spell.

Klaus tilted his head to the side, looking at him inquisitively, but any response he could have formed was cut off abruptly as Mindy strode angrily into the room.

"I can't do it," she said in frustration, tugging on her hair, "He's too strong," she said begrudgingly.

"Then break him down," Klaus ordered through gritted teeth.

"I _can't_, Klaus," she said sternly, and Damon saw Klaus' face go stoic. He _really_ didn't like being told 'no', or that something couldn't be done.

He walked over to Mindy, the two of them engaging in a heated conversation that Damon was sure would have ended with her head being ripped off, if he hadn't already killed Kara.

Turning his attention to the nail in his wrist, Damon stretched his head towards it as far as his body would allow, biting his lip to keep from yelling out in pain as he wiggled his arm around to try and dislodge it. He cringed at the vile copper taste as he finally clanked his teeth around the head of the nail, rearing back and tearing it from his arm.

He sighed quietly in relief, both Mindy and Klaus too preoccupied with their current stand-off to notice him, trying to keep a straight face as he closed his mouth around the nail, turning it around with his tongue so the tip was pressing up against the seam of his lips.

"You're going to have to help me before I can even begin to try the spell again," Mindy said, admitting defeat as she looked over at Damon. Not that he would disagree with the statement, but _what_ was he too strong for?

Klaus backed off with a heavy sigh, coming to stand over Damon once more. "You are more troublesome than you appear, Salvatore," he muttered in annoyance.

Damon grinned fiendishly and spat upwards, launching the nail towards the hybrid's face. Klaus stumbled back in surprise, yelling as the nail hit home and gouged itself into his face.

Damon wasted no time and _ripped_ his other wrist free of the nail, his bone popping grotesquely. He cracked it back into place, grabbing Klaus around the neck and spitefully punching him in the face, again and again.

As Klaus' head cracked to the side with Damon's final blow, he turned back to face him, an eerie and deranged smile on his bloody lips. "Oh, I'm going to _enjoy this_."

His hair was suddenly seized in Klaus' terrific grip, Damon not even having time to react as Klaus tossed him across the room like a ragdoll, his body impacting heavily onto the floor.

Through his haze, he saw Klaus walking towards him and tried to push himself to his feet, but Klaus' boot crashing into his face knocked him on the floor. His lip splitting and his nose breaking with the brunt of the assault.

He felt Klaus turn him onto his back with a dizzying speed, pinning him to the ground and forcing him to watch and try and squirm away as he ripped the nail from his face, bringing it closer to his own.

As soon as the nail sunk into Damon's eye, a harsh scream flew from his lips. His vision in that eye slowly began filling with blood as Klaus kept hacking at his eye, taking chunks out of it and jabbing it painfully into the fleshy part of his eye socket. Blood was pouring into Damon's mouth from where it was flowing down his face.

Blindly, he reared up, kicking Klaus off of him. Damon struggled to his feet, smiling in relief as he heard the nail clatter away from the two of them. He placed a hand over his eye as it began healing itself, the disfigured bone twisting and slotting itself back into place as his skin formed a protective web around it.

"Is that all you got?" Damon spat in retaliation as he stared Klaus down through his other eye, wiping the drying blood away from his other one. "I was tortured for five years; you're gonna have to do better than that," he hissed coldly.

He barely gave his vision time to clear properly before he lunged at Klaus again, Klaus catching him before he could do any real damage to him.

"Then it's an extremely good thing I have about _a thousand_ years of tricks up my sleeve to choose from," he chuckled at him, making Damon growl in anger.

Without warning, he was thrown back into the air, his body colliding heavily with a wall, crashing straight through it. Wood splintered everywhere and he laid, dazed, among the splinters, plaster raining down on and around him. He coughed the air back into his lungs, watching Klaus as he walked through the gaping hole in the wall.

"Although, as much as I'd love to draw this out for hours on end," Klaus began as he circled him menacingly, "I couldn't have anyone realising you've been missing for too long," he said with some practicality, and while Damon was glad, he also knew that they were probably too busy running around after Elena to give a damn about where he actually was.

"What a shame," Damon groaned with a roll of his eyes, pushing himself up from the floor, only to find himself pinned against another wall by Klaus' unbreakable grip.

"You could just make it easier on yourself and relax so my witch can do the spell."

Damon scoffed in Klaus' face. "Not likely."

"As I suspected," Klaus said with a faint smile, his eyes glowing amber and filling Damon with a sense of dread, "Which means I'll just have to hit you where it hurts, won't I?" he said, enthralled with where this was going.

There was a searing pain in Damon's neck as Klaus sunk his fangs into him, ripping and tearing at the flesh, blood spurting thickly between the two of them. He felt himself being tossed to the ground, his blood boiling as he felt Klaus' venom rapidly coursing around his body.

"Relax, I'll heal you when this is all over," Klaus promised, Damon unsure of whether to believe him or not, "If you be a good boy and co-operate," he added in a condescending tone.

"Or I could just let myself die," Damon retorted, mustering the strength to sit back up on his knees. He pressed a hand to his neck, feeling the tearing healing under his fingers, but the bite remained prominent.

"True, you could," Klaus acknowledged with a nod, "But then I'll have to use someone else," he pointed out, a dangerous smile playing about his lips. "Maybe your beloved Elena," he said in a slight purr.

Damon glared at him.

"But," Klaus began softly, kneeling down to his eye-level, "She wasn't really yours, was she? Chose Stefan, didn't she?" he said, a mask of pity on his face.

Damon ignored him, swallowing that thought down. Instead, he focused on Klaus' wrist. If he could catch him off-guard...

"Never did think you'd get a fairytale ending," Klaus went on, Damon actually in silent agreement about that, "You're too much like me," he said sympathetically.

"The less favored child, the monster," Klaus listed, then his eyes glimmered, "The second choice," he emphasized, Damon's anger brewing to a dangerous head inside him.

Klaus looked him dead in the eyes. "I bet you were in that storage locker wondering why your brother got the goodbye, weren't you?" he wondered, giving him a nasty grin.

Damon finally snapped, lunging at Klaus and tackling him over. He attempted to sink his fangs into Klaus' wrist, but the hybrid was a step ahead, managing to hold a snarling Damon at bay whilst he fumbled around him.

White-hot pain shot through him as Klaus stabbed a large wood splinter into his neck, causing Damon to become still and fall back onto his knees. Klaus got up, pushing the splinter further into his neck and effectively paralyzing him.

Damon fought to catch his breath as Klaus knelt down beside him, his breath tickling his ear, "And I know some small part of you must want him dead and out of your life," he whispered to him, Damon unable to even _speak_.

"Luckily for you, I'll be able to help you."

Damon's world was again blanketed in darkness as the sound of his neck snapping echoed around him.

This time when Damon awoke tied to the table, it wasn't the throbbing of the nails that brought him into consciousness, or the sting of the vervain ropes tied around his wrists, it was Klaus' venom burning its way through his bloodstream; killing him slowly from the inside out.

Heat was radiating against his body, and in his hazy vision, Damon could see blurred rings of yellow around him. Sweat was beading down his forehead and as he tried to suck in a breath, he choked around a piece of fabric tied into his mouth. There was no chance of escape this time, it hurt him to move, hurt him to _breathe_. He was trapped.

"Back with us, I see," Klaus greeted him, Damon struggling to clear his vision and see him.

An involuntary groan was muffled into the fabric as he moved his head to glare at Klaus, and the piece of wood he had stabbed into his neck earlier digging further in and causing wet, thick blood to ooze out of the wound.

Klaus bent down to Damon's eye-level, crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin there. "Guess I forgot about that," he said with a sardonic chuckle, tilting his head to the side, "I'll remove it if you like, you just have to beg me," he said in a darker tone.

All Damon could do was narrow his eyes with as much hatred as he possibly could. Klaus just shot him a wolfish grin, smiling to himself.

"Although I guess the gag doesn't help, does it?"

As soon as the fabric was pulled out of his mouth, Damon spat towards Klaus' face, releasing a torrent of vitriol at him, "The day I beg you for _anything_ will be the day I've lost all sense of myself."

Klaus regarded him in amusement, his response cut off as the candles flared up into tall, burning columns, a loud screech echoing and shaking the room, rumbling the large chandelier above Damon's head.

"Does that mean it's working?" Klaus asked in Mindy's direction, standing up and watching as the candle flames receded to their normal size.

"Whatever you did to him really worked," she said in amazement, nodding her head in approval at him, "Your bite must have done the trick," she added, sounding grateful.

Damon then felt Klaus' hand on his forehead, mentally hitting himself for not shaking him off, but it felt so _cool_ against the burning heat of his body.

"Do you think you could hurry up?" he asked, glancing over at Mindy, "Before Damon expires on us?" he added in a worried tone, Damon just staring up at him, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Mindy responded, "Good thing I'm almost done," she noted.

"What would I have to do?" Klaus asked.

"Once it's been planted, just tell him what you need him to do," she explained, while it made Damon's mind reel. Until _what_ was planted? "And he should do it," she said.

Klaus didn't look pleased, raising his eyebrows in annoyance. "_Should?_" he repeated, speaking as if the word was burning his tongue.

"_Will_ do it," Mindy corrected herself, a little nervous laugh slipping from her mouth under Klaus' scrutiny. "I swear," she added in a more serious tone, Klaus finally letting up.

Damon swallowed nervously. "What are you doing to me?" he asked in a strained voice, struggling to get the words out.

"Getting inside your head," Klaus said plainly.

Damon's remark was cut short as he lurched upwards, blood painting his chin and lips, dripping down into the collar of his shirt, breaking out into a violent coughing fit as a burning pain seized him from the inside out.

"Mindy, you may want to hurry!" Klaus said as a matter of urgency, "Preferably _before_ the poor thing starts hallucinating," he said in mock sympathy.

"You could heal him," Mindy pointed out.

"Not until I know it's worked," Klaus said indignantly, Mindy rolling her eyes before resuming her chanting.

After a few minutes, Mindy's eyes rolled back into her head and the candles all blew out in a massive gust of wind. Damon cried out as he felt something physically _digging_ into his brain, like a hook latching itself there.

"It's done," Mindy said with a smile.

Damon desperately tried to move, hell, open his mouth to scream, but he couldn't move at all. He was paralyzed. Helpless and unwilling to become whatever Klaus needed him for.

"You haven't killed him, have you?" Klaus asked tentatively, Damon feeling him poking him in the side.

"He's just awaiting your instructions," Mindy reassured him.

There was no further response from Klaus, and Damon suddenly felt something hot and sticky pressing against his lips. He stubbornly tried to move his head away as he felt Klaus' blood pooling into his mouth, struggling and fighting desperately, but Klaus refused to let him escape his grasp.

"Come on, Damon," Klaus urged him softly, Damon finally giving over and letting the blood slide thick and warm down his throat. "There's a good boy," he added in a pleased tone, Damon moaning quietly as his entire body was enveloped in a pleasant warmth.

He breathed out in silent relief as Klaus removed his wrist, his blood staining his lips, but his relief turned to confusion as he felt Klaus' hands on both sides of his head.

"What are you doing?" he wondered, his brows furrowing.

"Re-conditioning your mind," Klaus finally revealed, Damon's eyes widening. "From now on, you'll do what I say," he said in a wicked tone, his eyes glimmering darkly down at him, "And as of right now" –

He leaned down to whisper directly into Damon's ear.

– "I want you to kill everyone Stefan Salvatore holds dear."

His whisper was harsh, echoing in Damon's head repeatedly, over and over until he felt dizzy. He struggled as much as he was able, feeling that 'hook' from earlier digging deeper into his brain. When he finally stilled, his eyes flew open.

If he could see himself, he would see that his eyes had filled with midnight black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh look, I'm alive. :) SO sorry I took so long, I was in a massive slump and just hated everything I wrote so I was constantly deleting everything, and then when I finally felt onto something, I found out there was coursework or something due that I hadn't got done. But an extra-long (well, extra long on a word document anyway) chapter to make up for it. :)**

**Read, review, hope we're gonna have a good 2017 and I will see you soon(er than last time, I hope)**

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Muffled voices was the first thing that came back to Damon, jarring him back into consciousness. His neck was throbbing, his vision was hazy and his head was pounding, his nerves burning with an unfamiliar desire. He would've jerked upwards in shock if he could; he was still strapped down to the table, but he struggled nonetheless, remembering what Klaus had done to him.

"I will warn you that at first, he won't be receptive to the seed," Mindy was saying, Damon's lip curling in a sneer; damn right he wasn't going to kill everyone that he had actually begun to consider friends, "He'll fight it as much as he can," she said knowingly, "Especially with what you're asking him to do," she added.

"No-one can hold out forever," Klaus stated firmly, Damon fearing he was right, then what would become of him?

"Now take down the spell so Damon can leave," he said to Mindy, or more like ordered her in that cold tone of his, "He's not much use cooped up in here, is he?" he added, gesturing to Damon who was still tied to the table with the wood stick in his neck.

Damon groaned. He'd almost forgotten about that.

"You could thank me," Mindy said pointedly, folding her arms with an affronted look on her face that Klaus wasn't going to like.

He gripped Mindy tightly around the throat, crushing all the air out of her lungs and smothering her windpipe. "And I could also rip out your tongue," he said, his voice calm and even as she struggled and tried to pull his hand off her throat, "But, I think I'll settle for _this_," he said, giving her a small smile.

His werewolf claws extended and his grip tightened even more, Mindy's eyes bulging as blood started to trickle between Klaus's fingers. Her limbs went limp and her struggles ceased, her head lolling like dead weight, but Klaus didn't stop; Damon heard the squelching of flesh fill his ears as Mindy's body fell to the floor with a _thump!_ her head still in Klaus's hand.

That too was soon discarded like a piece of rubbish, her blood pooling on the ground beneath her body and igniting a burning thirst inside Damon's body. Distorted whispers tickled the edge of his mind, but he managed to shut them out; this was not going to happen to him. He wasn't suddenly going to start killing anyone, right? And if what the witch said was true, he had a while before it actually started working, so that could give him some time to––

Damon yelled in pain as something was harshly ripped from his neck – the piece of wood Klaus had stuck in there – thrashing around in his restraints as much as he was able.

Klaus was laughing at him. "Easy," he coaxed him, Damon craning his neck to look at him, "You'll be out of sorts for a little while," he said gently, ripping the restraints off of him.

He helped him into a sitting position, and Damon usually would've shaken him off or snapped that he could've done it himself, but he could just about keep his eyes open. He was exhausted; the werewolf venom still slowly working it's way from his system.

He winced, putting a hand up to his throbbing head. "What did you do to me?" he wondered; he felt like something had literally been shoved inside his brain and it was just waiting to be yanked at to do, well, to do whatever Klaus wanted him to do.

"I already told you," the hybrid said with a smile, "I re-conditioned your mind," he said, a small hint of glee in his voice.

"What?" Damon's brows furrowed in confusion as he got off the table, wobbling slightly on his feet as his surroundings uprighted themselves.

"Although to start with, you'll probably be as stubborn as you always have been," Klaus said with a chuckle, "But eventually, the spell will start to wear you down, and your mind will just be ripe for the picking," he added, sadistic relish glinting in his eyes.

"Like Hell am I gonna be your little bitch," Damon snarled defensively.

Klaus just smiled at him; it was so infuriating Damon wanted to smash it to pieces: "You won't have a choice, Damon," he said evenly, his tone telling him that there _really wasn't_ room for a debate on the subject, "Eventually the spell will consume you completely, until you've done what I asked," he explained, a nauseating feeling churning inside Damon's gut.

"After which, I might decide to let you live," Klaus went on, and Damon was about to shoot back some sarcastic remark, but Klaus had grabbed his face before he could even open his mouth, "But for now..."

Damon found he couldn't look away; he was trapped in Klaus' gaze; "You're not going to remember anything about today, or that I'm walking around a free man," he said, his voice a lot smoother than Damon remembered, "You're going to go about your life as normal until the seed starts to effect you," he finished, and Damon felt whatever pressure it was on his face leave.

The words spun round and round in Damon's brain until it became a dizzying cacophony, his bones becoming weak and languid while the fire in his head remained strong. Darkness swarmed his vision, his surroundings melding into one pool around him, and he pitched forwards, falling through the air until he fell hard onto soft, leafy ground.

A few found their way into his mouth as he groaned in pain, his brain thundering inside his skull. He spat dirt out of his mouth and pushed himself to his feet, finding his clothes torn, dried blood covering his hands and the unmistakable taste of it in his mouth. He looked around in confusion, finding no dead bodies. His entire mind was blank.

Come to think of it, there was a huge gap in his memory; he couldn't remember anything that happened after his fight with those two deputies, but he was on vervain, so he couldn't have been compelled. The only other option was that he drank so much blood, he passed out. But why would he have left the Pastor's ranch to go feed knowing Stefan and Elena were still inside?

A conundrum for another day, he decided as he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans, stopping short when he felt a strange tingling in the side of his neck. He shook it off, rubbing a tired hand over his face, chalking it up to just that. Tiredness. Trying to figure anything else out was literally giving him a headache.

He had no clue what time it was – other than it was morning – when he got back to the Boarding House, but he didn't care; he needed a drink and fresh clothes. He walked upstairs and changed his shirt, depositing the ripped one. It was torn clean in half, and he definitely would've remembered if he had slept with Rebekah again. (Over his undead body.)

Walking back down the stairs, Damon heard rustling coming from Stefan's room. He paid it no attention and poured himself a glass of scotch. As much as he probably should have given what happened yesterday – or had more than a day passed? – Damon just couldn't bring himself to care. If anyone dared try and kill him again, he would teach them not to bring a piece of wood to a supernatural fight.

"Damon? Is that you?" Stefan called out, Damon catching a whisper of, "_Stay here_," most likely to Elena who was up there with him. At least they both made it out all right.

"Who else would it be?" he called back with a smile as Stefan walked into the Parlour, relief washing all over his face when he saw him unharmed.

"We didn't see you at the Pastor's Ranch," Stefan said, again confusing Damon as to why he would've left them there in the middle of the chaos without even seeing if they were still alive. Well, figuratively speaking.

"I was worried," Stefan admitted, coming to stand next to Damon by the liquor cart, "We thought they'd killed you," he added, and Damon smirked; he had two fangs that said they didn't.

"Ye of little faith, baby brother," he said teasingly, patting Stefan reassuringly on the shoulder, downing his drink in one go. For some strange reason, it managed to dull the burning in his head. Whatever it was.

"So, where did you go?" Stefan asked, his brow furrowing a little, "Matt said you'd just taken off," he said with a confused look on his face, clearly wondering the same as Damon; _why_ would he have just taken off when they had still been behind bars?

"Just to..." Damon trailed off, becoming confronted with that darkness in his mind when he tried to think back, "Actually, that's a very good question," he said with a shrug, Stefan looking at him in surprise.

"Can't you remember?" he said incredulously. Damon nearly snorted; if he could remember, he wouldn't be having this problem!

"No, I..." he trailed off again, trying to push through that darkness surrounding his memories, but rescinded when he felt the beginning of a searing pain tickling his mind, "I can't," he stated simply, at a complete loss for words on the matter.

Stefan gave a faint scoff. "How much did you drink last night, Damon?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a knowing look.

"Just two of the Pastor's friends that stupidly weren't on vervain," Damon said with a shrug, or at least, he thought he did; he knew he didn't get blood on his hands from killing those two idiots, and it couldn't have been from him, because there hadn't been any indication of healed skin. "Last thing I remember, I was trying to kill Matt–"

"_What?_" Stefan cut in sternly, raising his eyebrows.

"–and then it's all a blank until I ended up in the woods and getting back here," Damon finished with another shrug, "Guess now I know what a teenage hang-over feels like," he added in disdain, rubbing a hand over his forehead and purposely pouring himself another drink.

"How did you all make it out, then?" he wondered, turning back to Stefan with a drink for him.

He took it and had a sip. "We had to get some blood to Elena before she passed away, and Rebekah managed to free us," he explained, sounding surprised about the outcome himself.

"Rebekah was there too?" Damon said in shock, wondering how the unholy Hell a bunch of wood-wielding morons could have possibly overpowered an Original Vampire. "And she suddenly had a change of heart and decided to help Elena, who she'd already killed once, live again?" he asked, looking to Stefan for clarification.

"Her humanity finds her in fits and starts, I think," Stefan said with a shrug, sounding like he was admiring her, while Damon just rolled his eyes. "But I'm glad we caught her on a good day - We wouldn't have made it out without her helping us," he admitted, Damon nodding with begrudging respect for her.

"It was strange though," Stefan went on, having a little more of the scotch, "None of the deputies were on vervain," he mused, Damon mildly surprised. It was like they had wanted them to be able to get free; if they hadn't, they would've taken every necessary precaution, and that included dosing themselves with vervain.

"Maybe they just got cocky," he suggested, Stefan making a face of agreement, but he wasn't going to dwell on it forever. It was Good Riddance to those pricks as far as he, and all the vampiric population were concerned. "Least you got out all right," he said as consolation, patting Stefan on the shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Stefan wondered sincerely.

Damon bit his lip, realising what Stefan had meant by it, and now they were both out of danger, it was time to deal with the elephant in the room that neither of them wanted to talk about. "No, not really," he admitted, sighing heavily.

"Damon..." Stefan trailed off, reaching out to put a hand on Damon's shoulder, but stopped short when he saw the glare Damon was giving him; as much as they did need to talk about it, he just needed _silence_. His headache was making him irritable. "We both asked her to make a choice, she made it," he said.

"I know, and it's not that, I just..." Damon thought better of trying to explain what was going on with him, because he had no clue of how to put it into words, and with any luck it would soon blow over. "Nevermind," he said dismissively, waving it away.

"So, what time do you want me to leave?" he asked, downing the rest of his drink in one go to try and mask the bitter expression threatening to take over his face.

"_Leave?_" Stefan repeated incredulously, putting his drink down and looking at Damon like he was insane, "What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion, his frown lines intensifying.

"That was the deal, right?" Damon asked in clarification, raising an eyebrow, "Whoever Elena chooses gets to stay, whoever she doesn't has to leave," he reminded him, Stefan's face falling a little.

"I guess now that she's a vampire, it'll be forever," Damon went on, but he wasn't bitter. No, that would be for lovesick teenagers; he was a vampire. A vampire who would probably be stuck watching a never-ending love fest between his brother and Elena if he didn't hurry up and get out of town, "So get your goodbye hugs in before the offer goes," he said with a wry smile, jokingly opening his arms.

He then rolled his eyes and put his glass on the cart, making to go upstairs and get his things, but Stefan caught his arm, looking shocked he was actually honouring something for once. But it wasn't for him, or even for Elena, it was for himself; he refused to be stuck on Elena forever. It did him no favours with Katherine, and the quicker he ripped off the proverbial band-aid, the easier the next few hundred years would be.

"You can't leave," Stefan said in disbelief.

"Watch me," Damon said with a sour expression, about to break Stefan's arm off of him if he didn't let go of his very expensive shirt.

"Damon," Stefan said with some urgency, "You _can't_ leave," he stressed, but Damon was having none of it. If Stefan needed him, he could look him up in Italy, or some other place extremely far from this town.

"Who needs me here?" Damon asked with an incredulous scoff, "Really?" he added, not bothering to hide the dismay in his voice.

He was right though; Elena didn't reciprocate his feelings, Caroline wasn't his biggest fan, Bonnie hated him for what he did to her mother, Alaric was dead and buried six feet under, Jeremy, Matt and Tyler weren't even in the realms of friendship, Katherine wasn't even an option even if she did care about him a fraction of what he used to feel for her, and whatever he and Rebekah had went out the window the minute she killed Elena. He really was alone, just like that night.

"Damon, there's been a problem with Elena," Stefan said in a grave voice, but Damon was not going to fall for it again; be that sucker who did whatever anyone wanted purely because it concerned _her_. Although he feared it would be easier _said_ than done.

"She killed someone already?" Damon said with a raise of his eyebrows, shaking Stefan's grip off him, "That was fast," he said with a whistle that Stefan did _not_ appreciate.

"No, she hasn't," Stefan said pointedly, Damon shrugging off the glare that was sent his way, "It's strange though... she can't keep any blood down," he mused, folding his arms with a concerned look on his face.

"The animal blood taste that bad?" Damon wondered, not at all surprised when Stefan nodded.

"Well that's to be expected," he said with a slight shudder when he remembered being so desperate for blood after Stefan starved him that he killed his little crow, and how bitter the feathery thing had tasted, "You're trying to get her on your diet right out of the gate; took you years to get used to it, if I remember," he reminded him knowingly.

"And that was after I'd killed thousands of people," Stefan emphasised, Damon making a face of agreement, but with how disgusting the blood tasted, he couldn't blame him, "Call me crazy, but I'd like Elena to skip that part," he said with a wry smile.

"Why?" Damon asked, genuinely wanting an answer, "It's happened to the best of us," he said, looking pointedly at Stefan, not really understanding why the 'big spiral' was such a massive deal for other vampires when they came out the other side. In his experience, it had just been like getting off a roller coaster; a little dizzying, and a bit of a wobbly start, but easy to get over.

"She won't be able to handle it if she hurts someone, Damon," Stefan said knowingly, "Her compassion is her Achilles heel and everything is magnified for her right now," he explained, lowering his voice slightly so Elena didn't hear them, and Damon supposed he did have a point. Elena always seemed more in tune with her emotions than other people he had seen.

Then he thought back to her incessant need to save everything and everyone and how hard she took every death and how big the chip on her shoulder actually was; yeah, she was going to be in trouble.

"I just don't want it to get to the point where she feels she's in so much pain she has to shut off her humanity," Stefan said with an aimless shrug, Damon refraining from rolling his eyes. Treating Elena with kid gloves was only going to cause her more damage in the long run.

"She'll get over it, Stefan," Damon said surely, forcing a smile, "In about a hundred years, give or take," he added, making an unconcerned face.

"Yeah, like I said," Stefan said, raising an eyebrow, "I'd like her to skip that part," he repeated, Damon rolling his eyes that time.

"So, you're willing to starve her to death for your little plan to work?" he summarised, Stefan avoiding his gaze, "Just give her some human blood as a little test and see if she can keep it down," he suggested with a shrug, patting him on the shoulder and making to go upstairs for the second time.

But he stopped in his tracks when Stefan said, "I already _did_, Damon."

"What?" Damon said in disbelief, doubling back. Now he was officially intrigued. He had never heard of a vampire not being able to keep blood down before, usually after transitioning the hard part was controlling how much they drank, not the actual drinking part.

"She couldn't keep that down, either," Stefan said worriedly, running a hand over his forehead and looking like he was refraining from ripping his hair out in frustration.

"Well, was it–"

Damon stopped at the sound of footsteps, seeing Elena walking into the Parlour, looking a lot better than she had the last time he saw her. She looked a little exhausted, but the colour had returned to her face and, for all intents and purposes, she seemed back to normal. He figured she'd had enough of them talking about her when she could hear.

"Damon!" she said in surprised elation, a happy smile spreading across her face, "You're back," she said in a pleased voice, walking over to give him a hug.

Damon accepted the embrace with a pained smile, holding her close and avoiding Stefan's guilty expression. "Hey, Elena," he said back, gently easing her away from him, "Heard you're having vamp-issues," he poked at her.

"It's just a little snag in the road," she said with a shrug, although he could tell that deep down she was concerned about it, "I'll be fine," she said confidently, but Damon knew both him and Stefan needed to help her nip this false confidence in the bud before she condemned herself to misery.

"It's not a 'little' snag, Elena," he said pointedly, his tone purposely harsh so she would listen to him, "It's a massive pot-hole," he stated plainly, Elena frowning at him, "You can't keep human or animal blood down," he told her.

"Maybe it was just the batch we got from the hospital?" she suggested, Damon taking a breath at her refusal to acknowledge her problem. All it was going to do was make for a very quick route down desiccation lane.

"Have you tried out a _living_ human to test that little theory?" Damon asked her, and Elena bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. Her reaction was all the response Damon needed.

"Well there you go," he said with a roll of his eyes, "If you try a living, breathing human and it doesn't work, then we know for sure you're in trouble," he said, thinking there was no point getting their knickers in a knot over something, that for all they knew, could be solved easily.

But he should've figured for Elena it wouldn't be so easy. "I _can't_, Damon," she said, shaking her head, "I can't risk killing anyone," she stressed, getting herself worked up too quickly.

"Well, until you get over that little part of yourself, you're going to be one miserable vampire," he said with a sympathetic smile, watching her take a breath to calm herself, "Vampires eat people, it's part of the natural food pyramid," he said simply, knowing that that wasn't going to change any time soon, and especially not for her.

Elena sighed, her face tired and worn. She rubbed a hand over her forehead and Damon decided that was enough pressing for now, but he wasn't going to give up until she tried it. He wasn't going to stand by and watch her kill herself because she seemed to value the lives of total strangers more than her own.

"Stefan?" she said quietly, turning to him, "D'you think I could talk to Damon for a minute?" she wondered, "Alone, please?" she added, looking to him for confirmation.

Stefan and Damon exchanged a look. "Sure," he said with a small smile, putting a hand up to her face, "I'll be upstairs if you need me," he said reassuringly, giving her a kiss.

Hiding his obvious distaste, Damon turned towards the liquor cart. He had a feeling he was going to need quite a few if Elena wanted to talk about what he was thinking she did. When Stefan was gone, Damon turned to see Elena edging hesitantly forward.

"So," he said as he poured them both a drink, "Having second thoughts about all this?" he wondered, handing her the glass.

"No, I just..." she trailed off, raising it to her lips and stopping short with a surprised noise when she got a whiff of how strong the alcohol was. She put the glass down, making Damon smile into his, "I wanted to talk," she said, looking at him and wringing his hands.

"How are you doing?" she said in a gentle voice, although Damon sensed she was walking on eggshells around him. Maybe she figured she was never going to need to have this conversation with him because she thought she was going to die, and him as well.

"I'm not the one that can't keep blood down," Damon said, giving her a look as he drank from his glass, wanting to avoid that talk for as long as he could.

"You know what I mean, Damon," Elena said softly, giving him a sad look as he just stared at her, "I know I hurt you and I'm–"

"Do you really need to dredge all this up now?" he said, cutting her off abruptly, a little harsher than he would've wanted, his tone making Elena jump slightly.

"I want you to talk about it," Elena said in earnest, her eyes shining almost regrettably.

"Why?" Damon demanded, feeling his throat tighten. Did she really want to see him suffer like that? "You suddenly ghost writing for an Agony Aunt column in the Mystic Falls tribune now?" he asked sarcastically, downing the rest of his drink.

"Damon..." she tried, her voice trailing off at the glare Damon was giving her.

"Fine, you wanna hear the truth?" Damon asked her, taking a sharp breath and preparing to crack open a Pandora's Box that he was sure she didn't really want him to open.

"Just _once_, I thought I wasn't gonna be anyone's second choice, but guys like me don't get a happy ending, do we?" he said aimlessly, giving Elena a said smile, "I just get left alone to possibly die in a cold storage locker," he growled out, anger overtaking him in a monstrous wave, the glass in his hand shattered in his strong grip.

"I'm sorry, Damon," Elena apologised, and she really did sound sincere, but it wouldn't be enough. Not this time. "But I–"

"All I had to hold onto was the fact that you were driving to me, but I doubt you would've given me that even if Klaus had been killed and I was going to die, would you?" he said, now unable to stop since Elena was insisting he pour out his soul. Mentioning Klaus made him feel strange for a reason he couldn't understand, but he was desiccated and no longer their concern.

"Well how could I have properly made a choice with you taking away my memories?" Elena offered as a rebuttal, Damon feeling his stomach drop. He had forgotten that she would remember what he compelled away from her.

"What?"

"I remember everything that you compelled me to forget," she said, coming to stand close to him, folding her arms with a look of restrained anger on her face.

"You had no right to take away my memories!" she said to him, her voice rising and Damon choosing to hold his tongue, knowing that nothing he could possibly say would impact anything for the two of them, "How could I properly make a decision between you and Stefan if I didn't know how you really feel?" she said, still having the nerve to sound angry.

At that, Damon felt his anger reaching boiling point. Of course she could've made a decision! She knew he would go to the ends of the Earth for her and do whatever it took to protect her. He sincerely doubted him taking away a verbal "I love you" impacted anything where her feelings were concerned.

"Don't insult me by giving me that," he ordered, pointing a finger in her face, Elena looking shocked at his outburst. "You know how I feel about you," he stated, then he scoffed, "Hell, pretty much everyone within a ten mile radius knows how I feel about you," he added, chuckling to himself and rubbing a hand over his face.

What sort of fool was he to believe he was going to get the girl? Even Rebekah had been in love with Stefan and had only went to _him_ because a busboy turned her down.

Elena sighed softly and put a hand on his arm. "Damon–"

He instantly smacked her arm away at the pleading tone in her voice, snarling as he pinned her up against the wall, a hand around her throat. He felt such an uncontrollable burst of rage, a fine red mist dancing in front of his eyes. Elena was gasping in his grip, trying to wrangle his hand off her, but he was stronger than her.

"I had enough of watching from the sidelines with Katherine and my brother," he hissed in her face, his voice distorting in his anger. He laughed mirthlessly as her hand came to grab at his throat in retaliation, taking a hold of her wrist in a bruising grip and effortlessly prying her hand away.

She gasped in pain, staring at him in open-mouthed shock as his capillaries weaved and snaked under his eyes. "I _refuse_ to do it again," he snarled, tossing her hand away so hard it smacked back against the wall, Damon hearing the bones snap.

He went on squeezing her neck, seeing Elena's eyes bulging – unsure of why the sight in front of him seemed so familiar – and feeling her blood seeping warm and damp beneath his hand. He wanted to cause her pain, he wanted her to suffer as he had.

"D-Damon, you're hurting me...!" Elena gasped in pain, her voice strained and barely audible.

Damon released her like she was a white-hot iron, staring at the blood on his hands in confusion while Elena coughed her breath back into her lungs, looking up at him in betrayal. He caught his breath, backing away while she remained on the ground. He felt like he had breached something within his mind, a barrier to his darker impulses that he could usually control, but not this time.

"Damon...?" Elena weakly called over to him, struggling to get off the floor, and he saw that there were parts of ripped flesh that were slowly beginning to sew themselves together.

Hearing hurried footsteps coming down the stairs, Damon was out the door before Stefan could make it into the Parlour. What the Hell was going on with him?

* * *

Damon sighed as the bartender placed another bourbon in front of him – that being his eighth glass since his ass hit his usual stool – downing it and rubbing his aching temples. It felt like a constant itch and niggle inside his brain and it was driving him crazy. That had to be why he'd gotten so angry with Elena earlier, right?

Sure, he was thinking all those things, but he would never actually say them out loud unless he actually thought he had a chance. But he didn't; Elena had made her choice and it wasn't him. Honestly, he could've seen it coming––he tried hard to be the better man Elena wanted, while Stefan was doing everything that had repulsed her from _him_ when they had first met, and she still chose Stefan over him. He could never win. That was just the tragedy of him.

"Sir? _Sir!_"

His head snapped up at the bartender's urgent calling, a sharp sting to his hand searing through him. He looked down to find he had crushed his glass and shards were stabbing into his palm.

"No, it's fine, _really_," Damon emphasised, eyes unblinking as they locked with the bartender's. A dazed look coming across his face, he nodded, giving him a small smile and moving off to serve a newcomer at the other end of the bar.

_Get it together, Salvatore..._ he thought to himself in disdain as he picked the shards out of his hand, watching as the wounds knitted themselves together. Since _when_ had he started getting so entangled in the wants and whims of a teenage girl?

"Did you do it?" Elena's voice demanded accusingly from behind him, Damon's haven of peace shattered, attempting to sit down on the stool next to him.

"That seat's taken," Damon said abruptly, Elena pausing and looking at him like he was crazy.

"But there's no one here," she said pointedly, gesturing to the empty seat.

Damon was in the mindset of letting Elena figure out for herself why she couldn't sit in the damn chair, but to prevent her from trying again, he spat out, "Well, I'm just going to pretend like there's someone there, because the alternative is just too damn depressing."

He finally spared her a look, seeing her expression soft as it finally resonated within her thick skull, and she nodded in understanding, taking the seat on his right.

The understanding look in her eyes went South as she asked him again, "Did you set off the explosion that killed the Town Council?"

"What explosion?" Damon asked in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

Elena gave him a stern look that was telling him to drop the innocent act, and ground out a warning of, "Damon..."

"_What explosion_, Elena?" Damon asked, truly not having a clue as to what she was on about. Why would he go out of his way to blow a bunch of people up? Especially when it seemed all too quick for the torture he had planned for them for attempting to kill his brother.

"You didn't hear?" Elena wondered in surprise, her eyes widening slightly.

"Honestly, much of yesterday is still a blank," Damon admitted with a shrug. He honestly didn't think he'd drank so much blood that he would have passed out, but whenever he tried to remember, all he got in return was a searing pain that he figured just to leave alone. If what he missed was that important, it would come back to him.

"Besides, if I was gonna kill a bunch of people, I wouldn't blow them up," he said pointedly, a mischievous glint forming in his eyes as he leaned in towards Elena, "I'd have a dinner party," he smirked, quirking his eyebrows at her as she shrank back, biting the inside of her cheek as she wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement.

"Anything else?" Damon asked, wondering why she was still sitting there like a little girl lost when he had just established he wasn't responsible for the deaths of the Council, but good riddance all the same, "You here to chew me out for earlier?" He looked at her expectantly, supposing he deserved something for shoving her into a wall.

"No, actually, I..." she trailed off nervously, looking around as if someone could overhear; she shuffled the stool closer. "You were right, Damon, I need your help," she admitted begrudgingly.

Damon sighed heavily, wondering what drastic realisation it must have taken for her to understand, "Of course you do. Pick your meal," he said invitingly, Elena making a startled sounding noise as he spun in his stool.

He hummed quietly to himself as he perused some of the ladies sitting around the Grill; he found three worthy 'candidates'. "You've got Asian fusion" – he gestured to a dark-haired Asian woman sitting with a few girlfriends – "Mexican" – then to a Latino chatting on her phone – "Or, what about some good old American comfort food?" He finished up with a typical All-American blonde girl eating fries and a burger.

"No," Elena said instantly, shaking her head stubbornly, "I _can't_," she stressed, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Damon rolled his eyes. What on Earth did she think his 'help' entailed if Stefan was on the bunny-eater side of the fence? A magical ticket out of her predicament? Until they figured out whether or not she couldn't even keep from the source human blood down, they couldn't start looking for a magical work around. Especially since the last one blew up in their faces.

He got up from the stool, Elena looking surprised at his abruptness, dropping down a twenty for his few drinks. "Fine, if you're so intent on having your way..." he trailed off, not giving Elena time to say anything, "Come on."

Grabbing her arm, Damon dragged her along with him, towards the bathroom. He pushed her inside, quickly checking for any humans. There were none. That would've been awkward, seeing as he would've had to compel them to leave.

"What are you doing?" Elena asked in confusion as he locked the door behind them.

"Giving you what you need," Damon replied as he turned around, extending his fangs and ripping a generous chunk out of his palm, blood oozing all over it and dripping on the floor. "Drink," he said to Elena, who at this point probably thought he was crazy.

"Come on, Elena," he urged her quickly, pulling her a little closer with his other hand, "We haven't got all day – accelerated healing, remember?" he reminded her.

Elena looked like she was a deer caught in headlights. "_What?_"

"You're a new vampire, Elena," Damon said plainly, keeping an eye on his wound in case he needed to reopen it, "You need warm blood from the vein," he emphasised, looking Elena in the eyes to try and make her understand, "Maybe this will do the trick," he proposed with a shrug, unsure of whether it actually would, but he was running fresh out of ideas.

"But just, don't tell Stefan," he added when Elena took a hesitant step forward, looking hungrily at the blood on his hand.

"Why not?" she asked, although Damon could tell she was throwing all caution to the wind as she became slowly transfixed by the blood.

"Because blood sharing is kind of personal," Damon said in a strained voice, wishing she would just hurry up and drink. His hand was starting to sting from keeping the wound open for so long.

"What do you mean it's personal?" Elena wondered. It was only personal if the vampires sharing their blood had feelings for each other – hence why Mikael didn't develop a string of groupies during his thousand year vampire feeding spree – but since Damon wasn't her first choice, he doubted it would cause her any repercussions later.

"Just drink," Damon urged her, when she still stood there aimlessly, knowing that would be all it took for her to break the strains against it in her mind.

Elena looked at his hand, and then up at his eyes, searching for permission. Damon nodded it and she took his hand in hers, pulling the bleeding wound up to her lips. He gasped at the slight sting of her fangs in his skin, but welcomed the feeling of his blood being drawn out all the same.

She gripped his hand tighter, sucking as much blood up as she was able to in her desperate thirst, her head falling against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. Allowing himself this one small thing, Damon let himself fall back against the bathroom stall, fighting to keep his own eyes open. He reached a hand up to stroke Elena's hair and clasp her to him.

If she wasn't going to choose him, then he was going to take whatever he could get.

* * *

The steady thrumming of a heartbeat was echoing inside Damon's brain. He felt soft ground beneath him and that unmistakable tang of blood in his mouth. And again, it wasn't his. He heard his phone ringing as he stood up, smelling the burning of a campfire, but he wasn't focused on it right now.

He was more concerned about the limbs and organs scattered everywhere around him.

Swallowing hard, Damon stared at the sight around him. His entire body was humming with a thrill of brilliance that embracing the Old Powers gave him. The blood still lingered where it had splattered; all over his face, neck and arms. It truly was a magnificent sight to behold, but when the Hell had he done it?

And yet again, when he tried to remember, he was beset by a painful throbbing in his brain, like something was resisting being pulled out and was remaining firmly embedded there. More and more he was coming to the conclusion he had been compelled, but he couldn't have been, because he was on vervain.

At least, he thought he was.

It slightly started him at the savagery he had exuded, but couldn't remember doing. None of the bodies remained intact – which was usually a Stefan thing – and he had even torn their organs out and drained a few of them of blood from the looks of it, which explained the slightly bloated feeling he was experiencing. He hadn't ever felt that before; he wasn't the one that lost control, and he wasn't a glutton. So he must have _wanted_ to do it.

Snarling in annoyance, he dug his hand into his pocket, finally answering the call. "What!" he snapped at the unfortunate soul on the other end, having to hold it a few inches from his ear at the hurried, frantic words Elena was saying to him.

He took a breath, sighing to himself as he looked around. "Woah, slow down," he said, and he heard her take a big breath on the other line, "Are you okay?" he asked, tapping his finger on the phone and praying she didn't want to talk about his feelings again. That would take too much time, and he needed to hurry up and get out of the woods. Quite literally.

"Damon, just hurry please..." she begged, sounding frightened out of her mind, "I need your help," she said, her voice shaking. She really didn't sound good.

"Where are you?" he wondered.

"I'm at the Church for the memorial," she said, and Damon was confused at that; there was a memorial going on? "I'm really struggling, Damon," she said, sucking in a shaky breath.

"So go bother your boyfriend," Damon said, a little irritably. Honestly, he wasn't obliged in anyway to help her now, and he should have been on a plane ride out of here, but she felt entitled to keep sucking him back in. And until he snapped out of whatever rut he was in, he would continue to allow her.

"_Damon!_" she stressed in a hushed voice, Damon rolling his eyes.

"All right," he said to keep her calm, sighing to himself, "I'll uh..." he trailed off, looking around at his own current predicament, "I'll stop by the house and get you a few things," he said, hanging up the phone before she could say anything else.

As he set about hauling the limbs and organs – Christ had he really drained a heart? – and tossing them on the fire, he also set about wiping his face and arms clean on his shirt. Since he was stopping by the Boarding House, he could get another. Elena's crisis would just have to stay itself until he was good and ready.

After a shower and another change of clothes, he was suited up and on his way to the memorial with a new dress and some fresh bags of blood for Elena. If it was a bad batch from the hospital, his own private stash was the next best alternative until the next blood drive. If it wasn't, then they would either need to find a vampire willing to be bled dry whenever, or get Rebekah to compel Elena to feed on a human.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialling Elena's number. "I'm here," he said to her reassuringly, "You doing okay?" he wondered, and at the same time wondering where Stefan was to help her in all this mess.

"Not really," Elena said in a shaky voice, "I'm in the basement bathroom; I couldn't keep your blood down," she told him in a lower voice, and Damon wanted to snap at her to just get over herself and feed from a human before she killed herself. Surely it was enough to make her see?

He picked up a faint rattling and the rustling of paper. "Is that you at the door?" Elena asked as the sound of the rattling intensified.

"Not yet," Damon said, speeding up his pace a little. If someone managed to get that door open, then Elena was going to have one Hell of a mess on her hands. Figuratively and literally. She hasn't learned to compel yet.

"Sorry, there's someone in here!" Elena called to whoever was on the other side of the door, the rustling of paper becoming more frantic as she whispered, "Damon, hurry," she whispered worriedly.

He rushed inside in a blur of speed, heading down the stairs. He was about to go into the bathroom, but he stopped short when he saw a dark-skinned man sitting across the leather seats. One thing that stood out to Damon was the single black glove on his hand. He inhaled quietly, the smell of vervain filling his nostrils. _Crafty bastard._

"Stalking small town funerals, are we?" he said in passing to the man, who gave a quiet scoff of laughter, knocking on the bathroom door.

Elena appeared through the crack, looking like she was about to pass out from relief. "Oh, Damon, thank God," she gasped, taking hold of the bag he passed her. Peering in, Damon saw bloody wipes strewn around the sink and toilet and a blood stain all down Elena's pink dress.

She poked her head around the door to look at the man, cleverly shielding her body. "Sorry, I–I spilt coffee all over my dress," she apologised, disappearing quickly and locking the door behind her.

The man had gotten up from the chair, looking at the locked door suspiciously. Damon leaned against it, regarding the man with an equally suspicious look.

"We have not met," the man said, coming forward, "I'm Connor. Jordan," he introduced himself, holding out his hand for Damon to shake.

Damon was having none of it and stayed put. "Damon," he said in a pinched voice, watching for Connor's as he purposely said, "Germaphobe."

He smiled to himself as Connor retracted his hand, giving the door a light knock. "Everything okay in there?" he called to Elena.

"Yeah, just a minute!" she called back.

Damon sighed, making a face as he looked at Connor who was still here. It wasn't like he could outright tell who was a vampire, but he certainly looked suspicious about the two of them. Oh well, one more for the buffet as far as Damon was concerned.

"So, what brings you to Mystic Falls?" he asked Connor, "Bible salesman?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow at the duffle behind him, although he really had no qualms about what was in there.

Connor laughed. "No, actually I'm in environmental clean up," he said, Damon just wanting to take one of those stakes he no doubt had in that duffel and ram it up his self-righteous ass.

"Heard you had a bit of a pollution problem," he went on, giving Damon a meaningful look. The niggling In his brain was making him want to torture this man to death. Slowly.

"Huh, well, I was unaware," Damon said with a shrug, mimicking his purposeful look, "I breathe pretty easy," he added, taking a deep one just to rub it in his face.

The door clicked behind him and Damon peeled away from the wall, Elena coming out in her new black dress and the bag slightly bulging with all the bloody wipes. He took it from her, slinging it over his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry that took so long," she said to Connor, an apologetic look on her face.

"No problem," he said dismissively, waving her off.

"Well, enjoy your stay," Damon said brightly, wrapping an arm around Elena to indicate they had to get the Hell out of there now, "We love visitors and the scenery is to die for," he said with a smirk that Connor didn't appreciate.

Damon mock-gasped to further annoy him, dramatically putting a hand to his mouth. "Funeral pun. Too soon," he said with a wince, walking Elena away from him.

When they emerged on the church grounds, the two of them walked behind a tree, Damon wincing at Elena's overall appearance – sallow skin; dark circles; large bags – and quickened his haste at finding her a blood bag.

"Here, I brought you this," he said, looking around for any onlookers and shoving it into her hands.

"But it didn't–"

"It's a little fresher and I warmed it in the microwave," he explained, pushing her hands back when she tried to hand it back to him, "Might trick your body into thinking it's fresh human blood," he suggested.

She pursed her lips in thought before she ripped the top off the bag, bringing it to her lips and sucking down a generous amount with a quiet, relieved sounding noise. But her expression quickly turned sour and her body surged forwards in revulsion as she spat out the blood in disgust, groaning in dismay.

"No, I can't. It tastes like..." She trailed off in dismay, flinging a glob of blood off her hands, some dribbling down her chin, "What's wrong with me?" she asked in despair, tears forming in her eyes.

Damon was at a loss himself as he wiped the blood off her chin, giving her a sympathetic look. "I don't know, maybe it's your doppelgänger blood, you're rejecting the transition," the suggested, but he wasn't sure. Katherine had never mentioned having any such difficulties, but then again, Katherine probably didn't make such a deal about feeding from humans, since at that time blood bags weren't a possibility.

"I'm dying, aren't I?" Elena breathed out, a tear leaking from her eye. She looked down and Damon lightly touched her under the chin.

"No, you're not dying," he said confidently, "Maybe it's just time to bite the bullet and try feeding on a human," he said gently,

"No," was her instant, bull-headed stubborn reply, "No, I don't–I can't risk killing anyone, Damon," she said, her voice getting a little higher as she got herself worked up again.

"Elena, you are a new vampire," Damon said sternly, but softly, looking her dead in the eyes as she tried avoiding his gaze, "You need warm blood from the vein, nothing else can really sustain you in the first few weeks," he said in honesty, just wishing he could make her see that everything would be okay. If killing someone was her primary concern, Damon and Stefan wouldn't let it happen.

"Maybe I'm better off dead," Elena said with a heavy sigh.

Damon grabbed her by the shoulders, her startled eyes darting to look at him. "Don't you think like that, Elena," he ordered her, "You'll be fine. Okay?" he said in a much gentler tone, Elena looking at him almost wistfully and nodding.

He allowed himself to bring a hand up to her face, gently stroking her cheek, a stark contrast to their dynamic earlier at the house and the Grill. Elena sighed, looking pained about something, and Damon understood what; he took his hand away and Elena closed her eyes.

The church bells rang and her revere was broken. "I have to get back inside," she said, licking her lips and heading back towards the church.

Damon rubbed a tired hand over his forehead and set about drinking the blood bags so he could dump the bag without wasting any. He spotted Stefan walking towards him as he sucked on a blood bag with vigour. Where had _he_ been during this whole fiasco?

"How is she?" Stefan asked in concern, his brows furrowing.

Damon held up his finger as he gulped the blood down, Stefan looking a tad disturbed. "Brought her another blood bag and that didn't exactly go down a treat either," he said when he managed to tear his mouth away, determined not to waste any, "She was vomiting up my blood when–"

"She drank from you?" Stefan cut in, sounding dismayed. Having started on the last blood bag, Damon nodded relucantly, knowing he was going to chew him out regardless of whether it was to help her or not.

"Look, Stefan, I had to try something," Damon said in defensive, holding his hands up, "She can't keep anything else down and she's so insistent on not feeding on humans she's gonna end up a desiccated mummy come Tuesday," he added in exasperation.

"Did you tell her how personal blood sharing is?" Stefan asked, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes slightly.

"No, I conviently left that part out," Damon said, knowing that Elena would have flat out refused if he had, but he had needed her to try, and she had came to him for help; he wasn't in the habit of leaving people in that regard empty-handed, "It's not to sabotage your relationship, in case you're wondering," he added, seeing Stefan's look.

"I figured that maybe she could try a Mikael-style diet on vampire blood, but clearly that didn't go down so well," he went on with a shrug, "She needs _fresh _human blood," he said for what felt like the hundredth time that day, hoping he could drive the nail home with someone.

"If she hurts someone, she'll be desperate to turn the guilt off," Stefan said knowingly, Damon grinding his teeth in irritation. Stefan sounded like he had no intention of physically helping Elena retain nothing other than his deluded version of control. "Maybe even desperate enough to shut off her humanity," he added, looking at him pointedly,

"Stefan, she doesn't have a choice, and you know it!" Damon said In frustration, feeling it boil up inside him, his hands twitching with the desire to quite literally wring both their necks at their somewhat self-righteous stupidity.

"I know..." Stefan admitted in resignation, walking away with a laborious sigh.

Humming to himself in thought, Damon pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling down his contacts and hovering over Katherine's number, while at the same time wondering why he still had it. But he decided against it, knowing that unless something was in it for her, she would never help Elena and would probably take pleasure in watching her agony.

Compulsion was probably going to be the next step if neither Damon or Stefan could talk Elena round. He discarded the bag and went inside for the service, spotting Elena up at the podium trying to nervously fumble some words out.

He dipped his fingers in the water bowl, flicking it across himself in a cross formation, fairly certain he got the order mixed up. "Don't know why that always makes me smile," he muttered to himself.

He took a seat next to Stefan, Matt sat a seat across, and looked up at Elena. She was fumbling over every word and her voice was shaking. Her skin looked even worse and her eyes looked dry and bloodshot.

"She doesn't look so good," Damon whispered to Stefan, motioning to Elena, "You sure it's a good idea for her to be here?" he asked, wondering why they were even all there in the first place. Who cared if the people who tried to kill all the vampires in town were dead?

"She wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now," Stefan said knowingly, and Damon nearly rolled his eyes. Because it was all about what Elena wanted, right? Damn her safety.

"Well it's _her_ funeral if she gets spotted," Damon snapped, folding his arms in annoyance.

"What?" Stefan arched his eyebrow.

"There's a hunter here," Damon said in a low voice, Stefan's eyes widening in alarm. "I bumped into him downstairs when I was giving Elena a clean dress," he went on. With all his quips about 'environmental clean up' it was no wonder Damon managed to sniff him out. Him and his little vervain glove.

Up at the podium, Elena seemed to have found her voice, "I uh – when I talked to April earlier she was kind of nervous about coming up to speak," she said with a swallow, down casting her eyes to the podium, "And now that I'm up here, I'm kind of nervous too," she admitted with a shaky laugh.

"The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them," she went on, but her voice shook again at the sound of dripping water.

No. _Blood._

Damon heard Caroline whispering, "Do you smell that?" to Tyler, and the scent of the blood suddenly became extremely strong. But they all had to resist; who knew what other tricks that Connor had up his sleeve?

"Nobody move," Damon whispered in a voice so low only all the vampires in the room could hear him, "_Do not_ turn around, it's a trap," he ordered through gritted teeth.

God that blood was intoxicating. Damon inhaled deeply, wanting nothing more than to find the source and drain it dry, or Connor and rip him apart limb from limb. He glanced up at Elena; she looked on the verge of a breakdown.

Damon gave Stefan a harsh nudge, jolting him up and towards the podium where Elena was breathing in and out in a frenzy, trying to calm herself. He wrapped his arms around her and guided her back towards the seated, confused, crowd, murmuring soothingly in her ear.

The priest walked up to the podium, giving Elena and Stefan a confused look for a split second, before he took out his hymn book. "Let us join together in a song," he addressed the crowd.

They stood up and the room was filled with a melodious singing. Damon glanced over to Elena, seeing her burying her head into Stefan's chest, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes as she clung to him like a life raft.

"The blood. Stefan, the blood, I can smell it. There's so much..." she repeated in a panicked voice, inhaling shakily. Damon couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, and they most likely were.

"It's alright; just remember what we talked about," Stefan said to her softly, rubbing her arms gently, while she buried her head into his shoulder, making a noise of protest, "Focus, push back, come on you can do this," he soothed coaxingly, laying his chin on top of her head.

"What's wrong with her?" Matt asked worriedly to Stefan, giving Elena a brief, nervous glance.

"She's hungry. She hasn't fed," Stefan explained. Technically she had, several times, but nothing wanted to stay down.

"So, get her out of here," Matt said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I can't. There's somebody watching us," he said in a quiet voice, grabbing Matt's arm and turning him back around when he attempted to turn around and see what he was on about.

"I'm gonna go rip his head off now," Damon stated with a cheery smile out of the corner of his mouth, chuckling to himself when he saw Matt's shocked expression.

"You do that, Damon, and you risk exposing all of us," Stefan said back, stroking Elena's hair and desperately trying to get her to calm down.

"Well, I think the risk will be slightly diminished when I, you know, rip his head off," Damon stated bluntly, those words jarring something inside his brain. He felt his eyes burn briefly, his fingers twitching by his side. This Hunter had to die...

"Stefan, I'm losing it," Elena whimpered, her voice muffled into his chest.

Damon huffed out a breath. "You have ten seconds before I go old fashioned on the new guy," he warned the three of them in a no-nonsense; Tyler and Caroline by extension, but he couldn't picture them caring that much.

"Don't do it, Damon. Please," Stefan pleaded with him, but he was having none of it. The only way they could all safety make it out would be if Connor was distracted, and thankfully Damon was crazy enough to become said distraction.

"Three, two, one. Bye." And with that, Damon was gone from the stands, exiting out the back way towards the bathroom, following the scent of blood like a hungry wolf.

He found Connor by the upper level balcony, overlooking the memorial through a sniper rifle. The source of the blood was an unconscious dark-haired girl with a stab wound seeping through the floor. Damon licked his lips, debating on a plan of action that wouldn't involve him engaging in a fight inside, not when the majority of the town was down below.

Taking a deep breath, Damon closed his eyes and burrowed deep within the Power he could feel radiating through his body; the blood he had drank earlier was enough to help him sustain the Old Powers. He focused hard, pushing all his energy outwards. His brain seared white-hot, fighting against that niggling feeling of stopping the games and just killing the Hunter. He had to be smart, no matter how much he wanted to splatter his guts all over the wall.

A telltale hissing spurred up from below the balcony, and Damon opened his eyes to see wisps of fog seeping from down the hall he had came. He followed them down, smirking to himself when he was engulfed in a thick fog even his vampire senses were having trouble guiding him through. He returned to the ground floor, hearing the confused priest and Carol Lockwood trying to restore order whilst making an evacuation.

He smiled triumphantly to himself when he heard the clunking of things – most likely wooden stakes and whatever he had been spying on them all with – being thrown back into his duffel bag. Looking up at the balcony, he saw Connor's head bob out of sight, making for the exit with his eyes narrowed in determination, and the fire to kill him burning deep inside him.

Cutting across the path, Damon disappeared behind a tree. He watched Connor run up to his car, a clear look of confusion written all over his face, and toss his duffel bag inside. When he got inside and started the car, Damon physically couldn't restraint himself anymore and rushed at the car.

His fist smashed through the window, splintering glass everywhere over himself and Connor, snarling voraciously in his face. Connor gave a startled cry, but was reaching for his duffel quicker than Damon would've thought, and he couldn't have that.

The metal of Connor's car door tore easily like paper under his strength, and before Connor could unzip the duffel, Damon had grabbed him around the throat and tossed him hard onto the ground, leaping on top of him with a roar. He sunk his fangs into his neck, tearing his skin and spurting blood over his face.

Damon heard the gunshots before he felt the pain of them; three shots to his stomach from a firearm that Connor had already concealed on him. He paid the bullets little to no attention, his adrenaline and hunger pulsating strong enough through him to liken the pain to a few pin pricks.

Grabbing hold of the gun before Connor could shoot him again, Damon crunched the gun to twisted metal in his fist, Connor stifling a scream through gritted teeth as his hand was caught up in the mess. He chuckled at Connor's expression, a mix of sheer confusion and surprise, and reared his head back, sinking his fangs into his neck once more.

Damon was suddenly ripped away from Connor's neck, his bloody streams of flesh still dangling from his lips, his surroundings flying by as he was smashed against something hard. He hissed and snarled, lashing out violently at Stefan or whoever was foolish enough to tear him away from his meal. The chuckle that followed sent shivers down his spine.

His blurred vision cleared, _Klaus Mikaelson_ coming into view in front of him, and the feeling of bark pressing into his back and Klaus's hand pressing into his chest breaking him out of his blood-induced haze. He felt his heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage – a mix of adrenaline and surprise – as Klaus watched him with a calculating smile.

"Well, this feels a little familiar..." Klaus murmured to himself, looking Damon up and down.

"_Klaus?_" Damon said in shock, struggling aimlessly against his grip. He was seconds away from killing Connor and he had to go and pull him away? Klaus standing in front of him wasn't even Damon's biggest concern; it was that he had been interrupted.

"Hello mate," Klaus greeted him almost jovially, "Don't you look dashing," he added with an appreciative smile, Damon for some strange reason betting he was referring to the blood covering his face rather than his suit.

The pressure on his chest increased, like Klaus was going to break past the barrier of his bones any second and snatch his heart away. "I just came to see if there had been any bloodshed," he said, Damon not having a clue what he was talking about – How had he even made it out of the coffin?

"But as far as I can tell, everyone I despise is alive," he said with a sneer, succeeding in confusing Damon further.

"What are you talking about?" Damon asked, vaguely wondering if Klaus had had anything to do with that massive gap in his brain that was painful for him to even consider poking at, "What did you do to me?" he demanded heatedly.

Klaus just smiled away his concerns, but then the look in his eyes turned as cold as ice. "I think I need to give you some incentive to listen to me," he said lowly, seemingly more to himself than Damon.

His eyes filled with amber and black, and Damon didn't have any time to react as Klaus tore his shirt open, exposing his chest. His fangs extended, and Damon fruitlessly tried to move, screaming out in agony as those fangs embedded themselves into his chest, ripping at his flesh.

Pulling away with a satisfied gasp, Damon felt his hair get seized and his head yanked up. "And for your own sake," Klaus said coldly, Damon wincing in pain, "You'd best hurry and start listening to me," he growled in warning.

His hair released from Klaus' iron grip, Damon fell to his knees in agony as the wolf venom pulsed through his system and the hybrid disappeared.

* * *

**So there ends another chapter. :) I know at the moment Klaus is showing up in fits and starts, but I need it so nobody except Damon knows he's out of the coffin for now (well, even Damon doesn't know) and until he manages to get over his feelings for Elena, there will still be some very few Delena scenes; I'm trying to do it in a way that doesn't seem too fast, or just an effect of the spell on Damon's mind, so I'm trying to create a balance between the two of them.**

**And I also want to clarify that the sire bond doesn't exist in my version of this story/season 4. I'm just gonna be putting it down to Elena's doppelgänger blood being weird because of it's magical properties. There still might be some speculation that she is sired to Damon though, but just speculation.**


End file.
